A Different Existence
by ASSAULTIER
Summary: Elizabeth may no longer exist as herself since her self-erasing nature from the fabric of existence. But she still exists as Anna Dewitt, daughter of Booker Dewitt. Follow her as she struggles to come to terms with her new existence and fight against new forces hell bent on tampering with the fabric of the multiverse. Follows immediately after the ending. SPOILERS ABOUND!
1. To Kill A DeWitt

**Chapter 1: To Kill A DeWitt**

**Hello guys and gals. I've decided to do a nice, friendly little thing around the Bioshock Infinite ending since I've just finished it like six hours ago at time of writing. The whole story is canon following the ending, so I hope to keep some semblance of the creative vision of the Irrational team alive while giving my own spin on the aftermath. If viewers of my previous fanfics find it slightly different, that's because the beginning will be action-less rather than the up-tempo I'm used. Okay, enough dawdling. Let's do this... Thanks in advance for any likes and favs you throw my way.**

Multiples of her. All around the both of them. One was standing right next to her, still in her tattered white dress and the blood of Daisy Fitzeroy as fresh as the day her scissors plunged deep into her heart. On the other end, an experimented Elizabeth with only her corset to keep her warm after the horrific experience. All of them closed in on Booker Dewitt as the realization leapt right into his mind and soul. He never backed away to his credit, just like he never backed down from a fight.

"You chose to walk away." The bloodied Elizabeth spoke in a neutral tone, her face awash from emotions like a pail of water dripping every last sentiment away.

"But in other oceans, you didn't." Another Elizabeth chanted. Booker's eyes swivelled from one Elizabeth to another. All of them stood clairvoyantly and at the ready.

"You took the baptism." His Elizabeth joined in on the chant, looking back at him with emotionless blue irises.

"And you were born a different man." An Elizabeth in a plain white dress told him. All the pieces fit together. All the puzzle pieces had fallen into place. It wasn't too hard for the Pinkerton detective to join the dots.

"Comstock." Booker incredulously responded, seeing now the price he had to pay to keep her safe. His daughter, his companion, his true mistake. Truth be told, he never imagined he would die this way, underneath the water's briny depths. He pictured a heroic death, one filled with ideals of nobility and honour still floating about in his addled head.

"It all has to end." The bloodied version stepped forward to Booker's left and continued to peer at him with her sapphire irises.

"To have never started." Elizabeth replied to her doppelganger's remark. She too stepped forward an inch with the same expressionless face plastered over her.

"Not just in this world." The white-dress girl reaffirmed him.

"But in all of ours." One of the Elizabeths in the back spoke demurely.

"Smother him in the crib." Booker recanted his exact words to Elizabeth, mere moments ago. Ironic, wasn't it? Here he was advocating killing Comstock in his crib when all along he was following exactly what Comstock had predicted. Self-destruction. Self-sacrifice. But there was no other way. At least one he didn't see...

"Smother, smother, smother." The gaggle of young women repeated over and over again like a prayer at some deranged cultist's house. If he didn't know better, he would have been mad to just stand there while women were readying for his execution.

"Before the choice is made." Went another chant.

"Before you are reborn." His Elizabeth finalized the entire thought process. It had to end. It just had to.

"He's Zachary Comstock." The white-dress Elizabeth grabbed Booker's right hand tightly, Booker making no attempt to delay the inevitable.

"He's Booker Dewitt." The stained red one grabbed his left in the same manner.

"No, I'm both." Booker summarized morosely, his final words before his Elizabeth's hand came crashing down on his skull and shoved him forcefully underneath the shallow water. The two Elizabeths flanking her did the same, pining his extremities under the lapping water in a manner akin to baptism. His entire upper body vanished beneath the waves. For every second, an air bubble rose to the surface of the water. Still their hands remained steady, if not their hearts. How could they be when they were drowning their protector, their friend, their own father? Every second, his lungs filled with more and more water. He could not help but struggle below the water. But even his struggle could not keep him from his fate. Soon enough, his eyes started to falter, his heart began to give out and all senses around him dulled to an immense standstill. The last look, the thing that glanced back at him was his Elizabeth looking extremely unhappy, but resolute nonetheless. In his heart, only one voice echoed within his final drops of life.

'_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Be free, Anna. Be free._' And just like that, so ended the tale of Booker Dewitt as Zachary Hale Comstock at the hands of Elizabeth/Anna Dewitt. His body went limp and lifeless beneath the water, the waves sloshing around the hem of the various Elizabeths' dresses. And so ends their existence. One by one, each Elizabeth disappeared from the earthly plane, vanishing like the wind and gone from sight. Even as their bodies entered an ethereal state of non-existence, their heads were bowed down in silence and their hands up in prayer. Soon, there was only just one. His Elizabeth, the one he knew best. The one in a blue dress and white corset. Only she remained behind the longest to contemplate her freedom from Comstock. Till she too was gone and was no more.

Or was it? Perhaps not...

Elizabeth felt her surroundings change from the landscape that once heralded two different men. Now she was in nothing but a pitch black room, with infinite walls and ceiling to boot. The room was only illuminated by a hanging chandelier of modern times. Her blue eyes scanned each and every corner, wanting desperately to make a tear and go back to her father's resting place. Her hands raised itself in an attempt to do so, only to hear a strange voice echo from within.

"Don't bother. You leave when I allow you to leave." A grim voice shot through the room, frightening the young woman terribly. Her hands were raised in a defensive stance, ready to unleash the full extent of her abilities against her unseen foe.

"Who's there? Who are you?" Elizabeth responded back. The voice chuckled lightly at her words, as if it heard something absolutely incredulous spilling from the young girl's mouth.

"My, my. For someone who's seen behind every door and every outcome, you sure can't seem to tell what I am." It crooned in her ears, causing her to tremble slightly in her bones. Her feet remained in a haphazard stance however, indicating her awareness factor.

"Don't play with me. I'm not someone you want to mess with." Elizabeth warned the unseen strange voice.

"Oh, but why would I? It's so much fun to see your little rationalization from afar. It gives me more joy than watching the other dimensions work this stuff out." The voice burst out laughing this time, the echoes of it rumbling across the room like an earthquake.

"I repeat... Who are you?" Elizabeth asked it again, this time with a little more force in her intended tone.

"Better question is who am I not?" It winked from its hiding spot, the glint immediately registering on her radar. But before she could make her move, he made his.

"Come. Sit. I will explain." It offered, conjuring a table and a chair from nowhere, the tear ripping open in a flash of hazy lights and perceptive faded colours. Elizabeth opened her eyelids in astonishment. '_How did... He has the same powers as I do! How... How did it...?_' Even so, she chose to mask it underneath her exterior and accept his 'gracious' offer. She had little to no choice. If he said he could control her powers and render it null and void, she was little more than a young woman with zero survival skills. Depending on Booker far too often has been a handicap for Elizabeth. '_I knew I should have asked him to teach me self-defence._' She cursed angrily within her head, only to have her attention swing right back to the voice when his overtones came roaring back in.

"So, I must ask. What possessed you to come to this? Killing your own father?" the voice requested an answer from her, a still image of her hands holding Booker down under the water flashing before its eyes. Elizabeth raised a single eyebrow in response. '_Surely if he had seen it, he must know the reason behind it. Or perhaps he wants to know my perspective._' She pondered before opening her mouth.

"I freed the both of us from the cycle. All the Bookers and Elizabeths elsewhere are free because of us." She steadfastly answered, not a single hint of doubt stuck in her throat.

"And how exactly did drowning him accomplish that monumental goal?" it prodded further into the semantics.

"He wouldn't be able to make that choice. He couldn't become Comstock even if he wanted to." Elizabeth explained in a drawl, as if she was discussing maths with a drug-addled lunatic who can't even form cohesive words.

"So will his choice to remain as Booker Dewitt." It reminded her of the implications she was bringing up. She quickly caught onto the fact and shook her head repeatedly.

"No, we simply... we simply removed the variable of him choosing the baptism. We turned his denial of it into a constant." Elizabeth answered decisively, her words intended to be the final law on the matter. The voice merely laughed menacingly at her ideals being so inclined towards a happy ending. '_This girl must really read a lot of fairy tales to acquiesce to such a belief._' It thoughtfully pondered within the confines of its brain.

"Ah, yes. Constants and variables. The law of the multiverses? I assume you must be well versed in it, after seeing it through the restoration of your powers." It replied after a short silence.

"How did you..." she replied in astonishment as the voice's knowledge of her adventures.

"You're not the only one who can open tears in the fabric of the spectrum of universes." It demonstrated yet again its abilities, bringing through a bowl of fruit right in front of her from another universe. It had the same radio static vibe to it for the briefest of moments before settling into a natural coloured hue. '_Of course, I can't be the only one with these powers._' Elizabeth figured to herself. The odds of meeting another person with the same abilities she had may have been astronomical but the odds were still there.

"I see." She answered, staring back down at the newly conjured bowl of fruit.

"No, you don't." It intoned sadly, seeing right through the facade. If anything, she looked slightly confused by his take on the matter, something he never expected from the well-versed woman with a lot of time on her hands.

"Explain, then. What do you think it really is?" Elizabeth countered with a hint of irritation in her tone.

"Sigh... Misguided intent." It surmised its long-winded explanation. Elizabeth looked taken aback by his words, dreadfully so.

"I'm sorry...?" she asked him to repeat itself.

"Misguided intent." It clearly verbalized it this time, every annunciation and syllable clearly echoing into her eardrums. '_How dare it define... Okay, keep a calm head, Elizabeth. You're better than this._' Her thought process went soon enough.

"Now see here..." she responded in a controlled, calm demeanor.

"People call me Alexander." It conceded. It had to give her something if he expected to expand her scope to the other possibilities laying right out there.

"Alexander, what makes you think that I had a misguided intent? I saw the outcomes. I witnessed the beginning that resulted in those outcomes. We both did, Booker and I. We knew what had to be done to stop the suffering Comstock would have done." Elizabeth argued her point as best she could. She wasn't completely in the wrong. What she saw was a web of threads all ending at different points within the universe in which she called reality. But all those silky, leathery threads all converged right where it started. Booker's baptism after the Battle of Wounded Knee. She bore witness to all that and could see only one way out to ensure the Comstock branch of the Dewitt tree was shorn off completely without damaging the rest of the tree.

"And there is it. The flaw." It clicked its fingers and made a snapping sound, the kind of sound someone makes when they cry Eureka.

"What?" Elizabeth inquired curiously, her hands burrowing into fists and placed directly on the wooden table. What flaw could there possibly be?

"Think about it. Each and every event we choose results in at least two universes to be created. For example, were I to walk down the streets of Columbia to the right, rather than say to the left, that creates an alternate universe where I chose to walk left instead. These are the things you call variables. Changing one single variable into a constant may right the wrongs your loop has resulted in, but it may change a constant into a variable. The law of balance, if I have to say so myself." It finished with a flurry, the speech a mix of intellectual thinking and dull, boring lecture talk.

"I don't understand. How does anything of what you had to say involve me at all?" she raised her eyebrow a little bit higher as she reclined back in her seat. She may not be able to see where the voice's origin point was but she had a general idea of where it might be. _'Strange though that it adopted a human name. Wonder if there's any meaning behind it?_' she deeply thought to herself.

"You don't exist anymore, child. You are the product of Columbia and without Booker to become Comstock, Columbia would have never been founded and your life would not play out that way. You destroyed a loop to create a constant out of a variable." It intoned knowingly, quite certain in the knowledge that she at least was open to the possibility and had seen it as a factor within her myriad of options.

"Then I accept my fate. As long as we are both free." She again answered with determination. The voice shook its head in disappointment. Not that she could see it in any case.

"You may be free. That much is true. But the universe or universes have a way of righting the balance no matter what the circumstances." It also stayed true to its interpretation of the matter. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps they were both right. She wouldn't know from this mere encounter, one not even done face-to-face.

"I don't understand." She responded, still unclear of his dictating logic.

"Think of it this way. Any deviation, whether intentional or accidental have rippling effects to compensate for the shift. To change destiny, to change fate is indeed possible as long as they remember the consequences of doing so." It went into his explanation even further, all the while readying something surprising for his intrepid guest.

"You're implying our actions could affect something beyond us." Elizabeth tried to get the gist of it, replying with an awkward tone that did not suit her well.

"You free yourself and your father from Columbia and Comstock. But it will come back. One form or another, it will return." It implied, bringing up an image of the underwater utopia where her beloved Songbird was crushed at so many phantoms below the sea. Still, she would not cave in and start listening to his honeyed words. '_No! I will not end up like my future self once before. I won't!_' She figured. They had years to break her. The voice would be lucky enough to get just five minutes with her at best.

"I don't believe you. I stand by what I saw. Nothing else." Elizabeth countered in defiance. To her surprise, the voice merely chuckled in a low-pitched tone to itself.

"If that is your wish... But you'll see that I make sense indeed down the line." It winked again, the glint giving away its position to the omniscient young woman. Still it remembered to multitask, preparing his little present for her.

"I don't exist anymore, remember?" Elizabeth reminded him. She was nothing more to the myriad of universes. Just a woman with god-like powers and an identity that none will recognize. '_Gee, when you put like that, it sounds weird._' She pondered quietly.

"You don't exist as Elizabeth anymore. But Anna Dewitt on the other hand..." it crooned, her thoughts quickly changing to that of her alternate identity, that of Booker's infant child. It wouldn't... It couldn't possibly do what it was implying.

"You... You wouldn't..." Elizabeth nervously replied, backing away as soon as her rear was off the wooden chair. The voice didn't seem to hear that last line because it began to ramble about something entirely different.

"It's funny, really. They call you characters in an interactive game in so many other universes, your voices not your own but the voices of others you will never meet. What was their names again? Troy Baker and Courtnee Draper if I recall..." it scratched its head, trying desperately to remember the details of the game. Ironic that a game was to give her life only to cruelly snatch it away for the sake of entertainment. Poetic was not the word to use in describing such an act.

"But I ramble too much. Enjoy your new life, Miss Dewitt." It gave a white-pearly smile and unleashed his surprise. A ball of white energy erupted from his hand and struck Elizabeth in the chest, burrowing deep within her. The light began to expand within her soul and the brilliant glaze of the shield expanded outwards. Every bit of darkness it touched crumbled in moments, leaving only a white background where it belonged. It was like the wallpaper was being torn off and heaven was staring right back at her. The figure was soon enough visible to Elizabeth who frantically called back to it even as her own body started to disintegrate before her light blue eyes.

"Wait!" she cried out exasperatedly. Her body at this point was completely gone and her outstretched hand and face were starting to peel away into complete nothingness. And just like that, only her bird-like choke was left to clatter nosily against the floor of the now white room harmlessly. Her final gift from Booker and it too was gone as well. How much more could she lose?

Elizabeth's eyes flickered in the darkness, her mind utterly swamped by the multitude of questions she had lingering within her. Who was that figure? What was its agenda and how did it come across the abilities she had? As far as she knew, only her finger, which was accidentally cut off during her abduction still residing in the alternate universe was the source of her omnipotent powers. How then was he able to replicate the results? Was it an alternate version of herself, in the same mould as the Lutece twins? Was it someone entirely different or something different? And most importantly, where did it send her to?

It didn't take long to answer that last mystery. Over time, her vision began to gain clarity and she could finally see her surroundings. It was wallpaper circa 1890 from the looks of it and a dim light was overhanging above her. Her eyes blinked twice at the sight of it. Maybe it had sent her into some kind of storage room. She tried to move her extremities, only to be overwhelmed by shock at what glanced back at her in return.

Stubby limbs, not fully grown were wriggling within her confines. Her movements were quite erratic to say the least and it did not exactly seem to even be possible. Her head spun around to meet her surface. She was nestled on a soft sheet, adorned with puppets and stitches so prominent that it looked comical rather than inviting. But it was the wooden bars towering above that finally clinched the scene.

"Oh, no. It sent me back... It sent me back." She babbled, only to hear her voice echo back in cooes and gleeful laughter. '_Oh, great. Now I can't speak either._' She mused sarcastically. As soon as that thought process passed through her head, the door right in front of her swung open softly with a gentle push. Standing within its frame was Booker Dewitt, her father. He seemed slightly concerned from what she could tell from looking at him.

"Anna, is that you?" He asked, seemingly confused by the turn of events. But one thing's for certain. She was no longer Elizabeth. Now the world knew her only as Anna Dewitt...

**Thank you all for reading. I hope this story gets some degree of support. Bioshock Infinite was such a great game to finish off over the course of one day. (What? I play my games marathon style most of the time.) I hope to see you again soon. If not, please enjoy this story as much as possible. Bye, guys. Have fun and be CO-OPERATIVE!**


	2. Normalcy Within Fear

**Chapter 2: Normalcy Within Fear**

**Welcome back for another chapter of A Different Existence. Yes, this fanfic actually got quite a positive first impression and I wanted to continue it even further. To all readers of my other fanfics, don't worry. I haven't forgotten about you and will be updating those stories at the exact same time. Except maybe the Starcraft one. That one may be further down the line. Still looking for inspiration there. Thanks for all the support so far and I hope you can give more in the coming chapters. Oh, on a side note... To EpicKlauke5, I did go back and watch the ending about twice more and I see what you mean. However, my opinion is that the first Elizabeth was his Elizabeth due to the way the story pans out. It would make little sense to put an entire group of unrecognizable Elizabeths in front of him for the finale. Plus, she was the last one to either disappear or not. Why would the developers want to break character and pull her away from us in the final moments? Again, this is just my opinion. You do make a fine point however and I appreciate that. Enough chatter... Let us continue this story before the aftershocks wear off...**

"_Are you afraid of God, Mr. Dewitt?"_

"_No, but I'm afraid of you."_

Five Years Later

Those words shouldn't haunt her. It was merely a look into what she could do. After all, anyone who saw her powers firsthand would have been afraid to mess with me. Heck, even the two doctors who tried to control her ended up in shredded pieces from her impromptu hurricane. But still five years after her new start, those words were the impetus of so many horrific nightmares regarding the supposed future and the act in which she committed. Why was this? Did they not both agree that it needed to be done? There should be no doubt, no guilt for what she did. The alternative was far worse to consider. The mere thought that Comstock could be allowed to exist... The mere idea shivered and enraged her to the bone. But had she been too objective in her reasoning? After all, when you see all the possibilities before your eyes, you tend to lose sight of the small picture in most cases and become so detached that you resemble nothing more than complete cold, calculating logic.

Perhaps she was overthinking this. After all, as far as the world knows, she was six year old Anna Dewitt, daughter of Booker Dewitt, happily playing with her toys like any good little girl would do. For her to be a woman trapped in a child's body was a surreal feeling. '_Look at it this way. Maybe this is a good thing. I get to have the father I never did and live a normal life. If that means giving up what I used to be, then so be it._' She told herself mentally while pushing a wooden toy cart across the room. '_Besides, an actual childhood is an added bonus._' She considered that extra pro. Just as she finished that thought and began to walk shakily to pick up the toy cart, the front door slid open gently. In walked Booker, all dressed in his Pinkerton outfit and clasping a Mauser in his holster. He looked deeply dishevelled and worn out, his face a clear state of exhaustion from another day of beating down rioting workers and solving rich people's problems. But as soon as he saw his little girl, all that was gone in a flash. In its place stood a warm smile and a cheerful exterior, buoyed by love and care.

"Hey there, baby girl. How's my little princess today?" Booker cooed playfully, ruffling Elizabeth's hair warmly as she finally managed to stand upright.

"Daddy!" She screamed. '_Okay, so maybe my brain is just a little less mature._' Elizabeth sighed as she hugged Booker tightly within her vice-like grip. Booker seemed to reciprocate the gesture with a hint of pain, but still took it as it was intended. A gesture of love...

"Ohhh, you've got a strong hug there, Anna." Booker smiled as he wrapped his own arms around his daughter in return. Elizabeth smiled as best she could, but felt somewhat guilty when the word strong filtered through. '_Oh, no. Did I hurt him?_' she wondered to herself in a panic.

"Oh, sorry Daddy." She apologized, relinquishing her hold on Booker. Booker shook his head slowly as he sat down on a nearby chair. Perhaps it was emotions that drove her. After all, the only interaction they ever got to have was under a hail of gunfire pouring down upon them.

"It's okay. Daddy likes your hugs. Were you going to get something?" He asked her. Elizabeth merely shrugged and gestured to the toy cart nestled at the edge of the room with her lithe pinky finger. Booker smiled, stepping out of his chair and walking the distance towards the little engine that could, cradling it in the crux of his hand.

"Here you go, little pea." He beamed warmly, extending his palm and letting the toy cart rest quite nicely in the middle. Elizabeth took the toy with an equally warm grin. Sometimes even the little things meant more than big gestures. And she wouldn't have it any other way.

"Thanks, Daddy. I love you." Elizabeth joyously proclaimed in a childish tone. She could not do any other voice. It would sound weird if a child were to all of a sudden adopt a young woman's voice. In any case, she couldn't do so.

"And I love you too, Anna. Now clean up your toys and I'll read you a bedtime story." Booker told her, stepping away and walking into the study room to lay out his items. Elizabeth watched onwards as her protector put away his belongings in a safe place far out of her reach and whistled with pride and joy from time to time. It was a more nuanced Booker than she had ever known. '_Right, better get on with it then._' She reminded herself. Her small hands dexterously scurried away her toys to the chest from which it came, removing the wooden protruding pieces from sight. As she did so, life seemed far too blissful to even consider the possibility of it going any further worse.

"All done, Daddy." She exclaimed proudly, looking around at her handiwork. You couldn't even tell that she had been playing merely a few minutes earlier.

"Be right there, sweetheart. I need to stow some paperwork away." Booker called out from the next room over. She could hear his hands shuffle about his desk and the ruffling of papers on and off again. Whatever his latest case was, it wasn't something easily done and dusted.

"Okay, Daddy." Elizabeth responded gleefully, skipping across like a pebble across a lake to her room. Storytime was just around the corner and she could not wait to hear what his brain was cooking up for her this time around.

Six Years Later

"Come on, Dad. It's not a big deal. It's just a scratch, honest." Elizabeth nursed her scratched arm as Booker bandaged it repeatedly. A small medical kit laid wide open on a wooden stool nearby, various antiseptics and bandages scattered about in a messy manner. The first few days at a new school was always hard but she didn't expect to get into a scrap so soon. Booker was muttering under his bated breath as he continuously wrapped the thin cloth over her arm, almost robotically so.

"It's not just a scratch, Anna. It's a serious thing. Who did this to you?" he demanded, just as he tightened the knot on the wrap.

"No-one." Elizabeth gritted through her teeth as the cloth dug into her bruised skin. He looked deeply upset this time, especially when he caught onto the lie. He sighed and let her prop herself up on the small chair next to her before he bent a knee and looked directly into her light blue eyes.

"Anna, don't lie to me. What happened?" he asked politely, clasping her shoulders in a fatherly gesture. Elizabeth tried looking away at first, ashamed to even admit what had happened. But eventually, she thought it best to face the music and be done with it. '_I need to start owning up for my mistakes now._' She reminded herself. With a deep inhalation of air, she spun around to meet Booker's own brown eyes.

"It was just a joke, Dad. Julia wanted to see if I was brave enough to be her friend." Elizabeth awkwardly replied to him, looking uncomfortable in that chair. Her body twitched at every moment, a case of fear creeping into her. '_Ironic, isn't it? He used to be afraid of me. Now I'm afraid of him._' She pondered to herself.

"So you let her do this to you? That's it. I'm going over there first thing tomorrow and talking with her parents. They'll think twice about messing with a Pinkerton detective." Booker made a thinly-veiled threat towards Julia's family. Anyone who hurt his daughter would suffer the consequences. That was something he swore to carry out regardless of the risks. And he was just about to do so, standing up and making a beeline for his study before a firm hand held his back.

"Dad, no. I can handle this myself." Elizabeth looked at him with pleading eyes. Booker nearly balked upon seeing his little girl make a stand. '_That girl hurt her. Why isn't she demanding for revenge? Why..._' Booker's mind considered, only to hit a wall as memories not his own drew a line in the ground. Static burst through his ears and he felt something strange erupt in his skull. Despite all that, he kept his composure, suffering naught but a slight nosebleed which he immediately wiped away out of Anna's sight. Spinning back around again, he relented in his crusade and kneeled back down to Elizabeth's height.

"I...I know. You're not a little girl anymore and I can't hope that you'll stay that way." Booker conceded. He couldn't protect all the time. Sooner or later, he'd have to let her go. But it didn't preclude him from feeling sad that his daughter was finally becoming more independant. Elizabeth clutched his hands within her own and smiled warmly.

"I'll still be your little girl, Dad. But you have to let me deal with this in my own way." Elizabeth told him in no uncertain terms. Booker seemed to take it with as much gusto as he could muster. Perhaps it was best if he let her deal with the matter herself, rather than hold her hand all the time.

"Okay... Okay... But if she hurts you again..." Booker began at first.

"She won't Dad. Don't worry." She reassured him. A deep sigh of relief washed over Booker. Maybe this will work out in the end. Just maybe...

"All right. I'd better get back to work. Uncle Slate's been hammering me all day for results." Booker remembered. He quickly dashed in a mad sprint to the study and quickly got ready. His sleeveless bandolier was the first thing to quickly be affixed to his person, the straps tightened all around as so not to let it droop pathetically. His coat was the next to go on, neatly encapsulating his entire body within its leathery confines and hiding the bandolier out of sight. Next of course was his trusty Mauser sidearm, which he holstered to his right hip. Patting the weapon down, he finally grabbed his hat from the hat stand nearby and stormed out.

"Okay, Dad. Bye." Elizabeth smiled warmly, pecking his cheek lightly with her lips as he was about to walk out the door.

"See you later, Anna." Booker reciprocated the gesture and winked at her before walking out into the busy streets of New York. Elizabeth observed through her periwinkle blue irises as her father vanished amidst the thronging crowd bustling in the streets. Closing the door, she was left to her own devices at last. Maybe a nice, comforting read would help ease her nerves. Eyeing a nearby newspaper, she flipped the pages open and reclined back in the sole feather chair in the room and began to read. Each and every page seemed to hold something new for her. Even after so many years locked up in that tower with only books and lockpicking to keep her company, she still found new things to learn each and every day from the paper. Granted, some of it was about the latest fashion designs and the occasional rant of a new product but it was still reliant enough that the twenty-something year old trapped in a twelve-year old body could still believe in the words scrawled across the paper from time to time. One article however did not bring a rapturous joy of discovery to her beating heart. Nay, it brought a level of fear, terror and slight apprehension to her soul. Blatantly advertised on one of the pages was this particular little tidbit.

_Come and see the newest wonder of the world!_

_Marvel at the floating city in the sky's inauguration!_

_Be amazed for it is not just a sky line!_

_For the oceans beckon to it as well!_

_Rejoice, for the city of Ascendance has become reality!_

_If you want to be a part of this fine sight of ingenuity,_

_Get your ticket today at your nearest government house!_

_We eagerly await your arrival, future dwellers!_

If it wasn't enough to spit that in her face, the next picture would surely take her breath away. It wasn't just a name change either. This was an entirely new city from both the underwater city she had travelled through once and the Columbia she knew. The architecture gave out a vibe that screamed futuristic. Buildings looked right out of some strange alien design, incorporating themes of classic 1900s design and a mix of various designs taken from other countries.

Flipping the next page with a deft hand, she frantically looked for the crux of this society. According to the news report, it seemed far too similar to Columbia, save for the various races now populating its regions. White, yellow, black... All were welcome to its shores. But as she read further, she saw nothing but a cry for ascendance to a new race far superior than ever before. Was that their dream? Their ideals? Elizabeth had little time to think of this before her soul was dragged back into the precipice of dimensions and returning face to face with the voice from eleven years ago. A quick glance downwards revealed that her true form had returned briefly, clad in her signature blue dress and white corset.

"I see that you have witnessed the first of many signs to come for your little world." The voice echoed its sentiments before Elizabeth could even get her first word in.

"We stopped this. This... This is not possible." Elizabeth bitterly replied, her faith in conviction wavering at a rapid pace. The nightmare was coming back in a new form. It would bring even the most strong-willed person to their knees in seconds flat.

"You indeed stopped Columbia and Comstock. That much is true indeed. Perhaps you need to listen to the words Ms. Lutece once uttered." The voice commanded, opening a small tear right behind Elizabeth. Her body spun to meet the opening and out burst Rosalind Lutece's voice in the midst of recording on her voxophone.

"But time is more an ocean than a river. Why try to bring in a tide that will only go out again?" her deep scientific brain racked the idea. Elizabeth remained confused and in the dark, so much so that when the tear sealed itself after the brief snippet of dialogue, her mind was a garble of questions and made-up answers.

"What does she mean?" She inquired painfully of the voice.

"Come now. Think, child. You know the answer to this as plain as sunlight." The voice tapped his own temple three times to drive home the point. Her own mind spiralled into deep contemplation, trying hard to piece together the bits and pieces that it had left scattered. It was trying to solve a puzzle piece. One piece went into the top left corner. One went for the middle. Where did that next one go? Each click in the mystery further deepened her desire to see the full picture. And when it was placed right in front of her, she could scarcely believe it herself.

"Someone else took our place." She murmured incoherently, stepping back completely numb and in pain.

"I believe your words were... There will always be a man. There will always be a lighthouse. There will always be a city. And there will always be a girl." The voice made a callback to her omnipotent self, all brimming with self-confidence about her knowledge of the multiverse. How foolish it must have sounded now when confronted with more guilt-laden entendres?

"No..." She whimpered incessantly once more, desperately clinging to some strand of control she still possessed.

"Condemnation is a principal sin, is it not? But I see our time runs short. Goodbye..." The voice chuckles to himself as he walks away, leaving Elizabeth to face the dark room alone as it crumbled away to meet the searing white light of reality.

"Wait! Come back!" Elizabeth stretched out her arm to reach the shrinking figure, only to overtaken by the light and seeing her body disintegrate for the second time in a row. Time barely passed before she found herself back in the land of the living, amongst the furniture with a newspaper nestled on her lap. Her breaths were short and raspy, like she had been in a terrible nightmare. She grasped her chest in fits of hysterics, feeling her heart beat madly with every nanosecond that passed.

'_It wasn't a dream. Was it? It couldn't have been..._' she pondered aimlessly, staring back down at the insulting image of Ascendance peering right back at her delirious face. Tossing it across the room seemed apropos for this kind of messed up storm. '_Calm down, Elizabeth. It's none of your business. We broke ourselves from the circle. Our job is done. Just live the life you've been given and everything will sort itself out._' She reminded herself. She had worked too hard to reach this point just to lose it all on the whims of a stranger's words. And for once, Elizabeth chose to pass her day dreaming about Paris. Oh, how it seemed so close right now...

Eight Years Later

The tapestry was quite lovely, even in the dim light that emanated from the fireplace. Elizabeth was relaxing in her chair, waiting for her father to come home. Over the years, she had finally grown into the young woman she used to be. Everything about her was left intact. The curvaceous body that clung to her clothes. Her warm, gentle smile. Her periwinkle blue eyes. Her shoulder-length brown hair. Of course, there were exceptions to the rule. For one, her finger was still more or less intact from day one. She did not miss that thimble, not one single bit. Nor did she miss the powers that she once held in her grasp. That was a mere penance compared to the new life she had with her father. But it was getting late, the clock chiming anxiously in response to her impatient stance. '_Maybe he got held up at the office? Shouldn't be. He told me his new boss was more generous than Uncle Slate._' Ah, yes. Cornelius Slate. He had left to the city of Ascendance a few years ago in the hopes of starting afresh in the world. More newspapers spoke of the massive wonder, which had by now disappeared along with its inhabitants to the waters below or the sky above. She didn't know and honestly she didn't care. Her life was good enough that she would not tempt fate. A rap on the door caught her attention, her feet bounding towards it in a flash. Standing out in the middle of the rain was an elderly officer in his mid 50s, his bowler hat clasped in his soaked hands.

"Miss Anna Dewitt?" he spoke in a portly manner.

"Yes, that would be me." Elizabeth answered with trepidation. '_I have to get used to people calling me Anna._' She figured. Even after nineteen years living in this world, she still had trouble responding to her alternate identity.

"Officer Tenpenny's my name. We... uh... picked up someone named Booker for drunken misconduct. Said he was your father." The old man furrowed his brows slightly, seemingly lost in any other way to break the news to her.

"Yes, he is. What happened to him?" Elizabeth responded quietly. '_Please, not again._' She found herself wishing.

"He's here with me, Miss Dewitt. Gave me your address before he passed out." Tenpenny remarked kindly. Without waiting for another response, he walked towards the carriage behind him and swung open the door. Inside was a clearly intoxicated Booker, stumbling about in the carriage, his head spinning in a turnpike motion as he felt the after-effects of the alcohol finally sink in. Elizabeth sighed as she watched her father's eyes glaze over from one spot to another, unable to keep it level headed. This was the sixth time in two months already and it was really starting to grate on her nerves.

"Thank you, Officer. I apologize for the inconvenience." Elizabeth bowed down in thanks to Tenpenny, who shook her off with a wave of his well-endowed hands.

"Don't mention it. Just see to it that this doesn't happen again." He told her, helping Elizabeth drag the drunken Booker out of the carriage and into the living room where it was warm and dry.

"You have my word, Officer." Elizabeth tried her best to reassure him, just as she did the last two officers who came a-knocking. Officer Tenpenny looked absolutely reluctant to leave her alone with her drunkard of a father but eventually relented, seeing her steely resolve start to form.

"Okay then. See you around, Miss Dewitt." He politely remarked before stepping outside and closing the door behind him. Elizabeth beamed warmly to him as he left. But as soon as he was out of sight, she exhaled a deep sigh of both relief and disappointment. Looking back at her father slumped in a chair facing the fireplace, she scurried back to her room to grab a towel. Over the years, the room has changed to reflect her personality overhaul. No longer were books lining the walls as frequently as the tower once commanded. Now they were decorated with trinkets of immaculate design and ideas, curiosities that offered her new glimpses into what used to be the Sodom below. Where once a painting of Paris used to be her only sight of the vast city stood a carving of the Eiffel Tower, a black-and-white still image of the city itself and memorabilia from her trip two years ago. '_At least one dream came true._' She remarked positively in her head.

Finding a towel in her bathroom, Elizabeth rushed back to her father's side and dabbed him with the cloth. Booker seemed more lucid this time around than before, so she was none too surprised to hear a reply to her usual comment.

"Just had to go get wasted again, Dad." Elizabeth muttered as she finished dabbing his forehead and whipped the towel around his wet body. She didn't even bother to change him out of his musty, dank clothes. He could stay in them until tomorrow morning.

"Hey there, Anna." Booker fervently muttered incoherently as his eyes blinked rapidly. Elizabeth glared upon him for a split second before opting to tend to his wound.

"Hi, Dad. Hold still." She warned him. This time, it was she to wrap the bandage around his wound and tug at it with immense force.

"Uggghhh. Did I... Did I spend..." Booker spelled out asbest he could amidst pain and drunken stupor.

"Too much time at the bar? Yes, you did." Elizabeth told him plain and simple. Booker looked deeply disappointed in himself, especially when Elizabeth refused to look him straight in the eye.

"I'm sorry." He rasped out.

"I've heard that before." Elizabeth scoffed. '_Five times to be exact._' She muttered under bated breath.

"I mean it." Booker said to her as she finished dabbing at the edges of the bandage as so not to get it wet. Those years at the hospital down the street was sure paying dividends for her.

"Sure you do, Dad." Elizabeth drawled, content with her work. She was just about to walk away and lay down on her bed in silence when Booker's hand shot right out of his blanketed confines and grabbed her own lithe, thin extremity shakily. Elizabeth paused, wondering what excuse she was going to hear this time.

'Look, I just needed to... just needed to wipe the memories away." Booker sobbed tearfully, his hand still clasped tight around Elizabeth's wrist. It was unexpected. She was so used to hearing things like how hard it was raising her on his salary, how he missed her mother. That sort of thing... But she never considered that he may still be feeling guilt over the massacre at Wounded Knee. Even before all this in Columbia, all his regrets seemed to stem from that hallmark of death and destruction. A monument to his sins if one may be permitted.

"Dad?" Elizabeth felt his hand tug at hers for the briefest of moments.

"I did some... some horrible things, Anna. And every time I close my eyes, I see what I did that day. The things I perpetrated." Booker sobbed uncontrollably at his last statement, the memories opening the floodgates to his tortured soul. Elizabeth felt her annoyance and anger flush down the drain, replaced by understanding and wisdom. Feeling his hand droop to the floor and his sobs echoing in the small house they called home, she stepped back towards him and hugged him from behind.

"Dad, maybe it's time to move on. What's in the past is the past. We can't change that." Elizabeth offered her advice on the matter. If there was one thing she learned to do, it was to let go of the past. She did with Lady Comstock once. She could do it again with Booker. Booker didn't seem convinced, merely upset at the prospect of moving on. She hugged him tighter this time around.

"Dad, you raised me quite well all things considering. That's something, right?" She told him, reminding Booker of the positives in her life. His eyes started to twist back from a gloomy outlook to one filled with some measure of hope, albeit small and cramped. '_One step at a time, Elizabeth._' She told herself. One day, he'll move past this. One day...

"Yeah... I guess... How did I ever get such a smart little girl like you?" he asked out of left field.

"Maybe you're just lucky, Dad." She shrugged, lost for words on her own.

"Yeah... Lucky..." Booker stuttered before finally losing that last bit of stored energy and falling back into his chair for a deep slumber until next sunrise.

"Sleep tight, Dad." Elizabeth placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, draping him in the cloth yet again. He looked so peaceful from her perspective, so relaxed. And that only helped to make Elizabeth's grin all the more wider in her mind. Another rap on the door filtered through her ears yet again.

"Who's there?" Elizabeth called towards the door. No answer. '_Who could it possibly be at this late hour?_' she pondered as she nervously closed the gap between her and the doorknob. Her fingers clenched around the brass item and twisted it clockwise, swinging it open. Her hand instinctively grasped the frame for support in a curious fashion, something which she never dwelled upon.

"It's late. Can you come back..?" Elizabeth began at first, not bothering to look up. When she did though, her polite manner dissipated almost instantly, replaced with one of pure shock at her guests. Two familiar faces looked upon her with most curious eyes and seemed to stand upright in the same fashion.

"You!" She cried out in a state of panic.

"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt." The two figures echoed out the horrifying statement at the same time. The nightmare was coming back in full force. And this time, Elizabeth had no idea what form it had taken, what she had to do. One thing's for sure. There was no escaping what was coming... No way out...

**Thanks guys for all the support you've given for this fanfic. It really means a lot to me... I hope this chapter was up to your liking. Please leave reviews, likes and favs and let me know what you think about this latest chapter. Hope to see you all real soon. As always, have fun and be CO-OPERATIVE!**


	3. Circle Unbroken

**Chapter 3: Circle Unbroken**

**Welcome back for another chapter of A Different Existence. I want to thank everyone for making this a runaway hit, I guess. I'm not really sure how many likes and favs count for that honour. Regardless, your support is well appreciated. I do have to apologize that this will not be a constant thing. Life will catch up sooner or later and right now, life is commanding me to catch up on my studies for the moment. So don't get your hopes up. If possible, try and leave a detailed review so I can help make this fanfic as best as I possibly can. Feedback is important after all... Other than that, thanks for the reviews, likes and favs thus far and let us continue with the show.**

Elizabeth was dead-dropped shocked. Here she was in New York, in the year 1912 standing right at the door of the Booker residence and there they were, right in front of her, repeating the same nonsense that started all of this to begin with. She didn't know if she wanted to slam the door right in their face and be done with the whole affair or let them in out of a strange sense of curiosity. To be honest, both ways seemed counter-productive.

"Are you going to let us in?" Robert Lutece got the ball rolling.

"The better question is when will she let us in?" Rosalind Lutece chimed in.

"We won't know when she'll let us in if she won't let us in." Robert corrected her statement.

"What makes you say that? Won't she let us in?" Rosalind questioned curiously at the misnomer. Robert shook his head in disbelief at his twin sibling. How could someone so well versed in physics be so dense when it came to common sense?

"We don't have data like we did last time. We can't predict her behaviour this time." Robert explained plainly.

"You can't predict or I?" Rosalind spoke playfully.

"Must we make everything a competition?" He snorted at her expense.

"Only if you hate losing." She remarked. Elizabeth was fuming at this point. If having the two wonder twins wasn't already painful enough without digging up old memories, now they had to act so bloody annoying too.

"ENOUGH! What are you two doing here?" She screamed at the two of them, who spun around to meet her rage-filled eyes as her hand gripped the frame of the door tightly. Behind her, Booker slumbered like a baby underneath the warm blanket by the fireside. It was a wonder how he managed to sleep past his daughter's tirade. Whatever he had to drink was quite potent and Elizabeth was actually thankful he wasn't quite awake to hear this incessant banter play out. '_Somehow, I doubt Booker would have any more patience with these two than I did, if less._' She pondered aimlessly.

"I would think that would be fairly obvious." She answered in the same blank slate tone they were well known for.

"We want to come in." Robert finished the statement.

"Do we want to come in?" Rosalind retorted with the same irreverent voice. Elizabeth sighed at the resurgence of this unusual banter between the two alternate selves. '_Great, if I don't let them in, they'll be annoying for hours on end. Well, no time like the present..._' she conceded the point mentally.

"Alright, enough... Come in." Elizabeth swung the door open and threw her hand out to the living room beyond. The twins smiled slightly as they stepped inside the house, wiping their feet on the carpet as they did so.

"Why, thank you kindly." Rosalind spoke demurely.

"You're not kind at all, sister." Robert spoke smarmily.

"Neither are you." She reminded him.

"Well, that is true." Robert admitted. Both the twins took spare chairs from the dining table and propped neatly against the fireplace, sitting down while Elizabeth closed the door behind them with trepidation. Brushing dust off her clean clothes, she took a deep breath of fresh air before rejoining the two wonder twins at the fireplace while Booker remained as silent as the night itself.

"I must say this place is much cosier than we were last here." Robert remarked as his eyes went from one piece of furniture to another.

"Yes, a two room place seemed quite... cramped for a family." Rosalind answered with uncertainty. Besides from what her 'brother' had described about the place, it wasn't exactly homey either.

"Things change." Elizabeth told the both of them, the meaning behind such a simple word twofold for her case.

"So, I assume that you're dying to hear what we want this time." Robert commented in a witty manner.

"Of course she is. She's an inquisitive young girl." Rosalind spoke matter-of-factly like it was an ascertained fact.

"Not this again. Look, I appreciate the social call but it's getting late and I have to haul Dad back to his room before he starts rolling around in his sleep." She babbled, setting about her normal routine as best she could without having to listen to the wonder twins again. Stuff like straightening out Booker's bed and cleaning up the study seemed like far more important tasks to handle. As she fluffed the pillows and flapped the thin cloth they called a blanket, she could not hear a peep echo from either of them. '_Have they disappeared already? I do hope so..._' she wistfully wished. To her dismay, they were still seated in their usual positions, sipping on cups of tea she was quite sure she hadn't made at all. Shaking her head, she stepped into the study. Now Rosalind opened her big, flapping gums to speak at this inopportune moment.

"He still has his debts you know." She called out across the room, eliciting a shocked response from Elizabeth in the form of a frantic search. She fumbled through every one of his possessions and could find nothing to support her claim. That is until she opted to check in Booker's back pocket. Lo and behold, a small pile of gambling tickets were ever present on her lithe hands in an instant. No tear to distinguish its unnatural presence. Just simply what it looked to be. A sign of things to come.

"I guess not everything changes." Robert mused ironically at that very moment. Elizabeth stepped outside, crunching the stubs in a ball with her fist, doing her level best not to scream at them and wake Booker up unnecessarily

"I'm not going back. I'm not going to whatever city it's called this time. I've had enough. We've had enough." Elizabeth defiantly proclaimed to the twins. Of course, saying no to them was downright impossible to do without wanting to strangle their vocal chords.

"But how much is enough?" Rosalind asked another one of her annoying questions?

"Well, enough would be sufficient." Robert replied sarcastically to his sister's idea.

"Is sufficient enough or is enough sufficient?" Rosalind shot back at him.

"I honestly don't know." Robert shrugged his shoulders. Suddenly, the lights above them blew out all of a sudden, sending its inhabitants into a deep, dark, pitch-black darkness.

"Wait, the lights went out... That's... strange..." Elizabeth rattled off in record time, just as the lights turned back on and the twins were nowhere to be found. The only clue as to their presence having been here was the steaming mugs of tea still resting on one of the tables, a short stack of billowing smoke coming out of the half-empty mugs. '_Or was it half full? Damn, I hate when I start thinking like them._' She swore in a rare treat.

"Great, they pulled a disappearing act again. Just wonderful. I... Huh, they left something..." Elizabeth muttered to herself before spying a laundry list of papers and items stacked neatly on one end of the chair. Her curiosity piqued, she took a seat in that same chair and pulled the cornucopia of junk near her for a closer look. The first thing that came to her attention was the same cryptic message Booker had used when he first met her.

"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt." Went the message scrawled neatly in the embossed handwriting. The ink was barely dry on the papyrus. It was pretty clear as soon as Elizabeth ran a tender finger over the writing and smidged it just a tad bit. Picking up another item, she saw a girl staring right back at her. A girl that looked awfully similar. Sure, there were differences like how this girl was boasting brown eyes rather than blue, long wavy hair of auburn colour and some key facial differences. But if you took those away, you might as well call her Elizabeth 2.0 if that was your cup of tea. What really clinched that this whole endeavour was going to be a nightmarish retread were the instructions left still written plainly on the back of the picture. One bird, two cages, four waves and one door. '_If I recall correctly, Booker talked about this when he first entered the lighthouse. This must be callback signals for the city._' She figured it out in seconds flat. But that was the drive to make her toss the damned things aside and not give one more care for it anytime soon.

"No... We have a good thing going here. I'm not doing this." Elizabeth steadfastly responded, dragging Booker by his legs to his room and plopping the unconscious form exhaustingly on the bed in a still manner. Like he once did for her before, she wrapped him up in the neat little blanket and pecked him once on the cheek before she left him to sleep off the alcohol. Tomorrow would be a new day, unburdened by the stain of the night. A new day, a new age...

Morning rose almost as fast as it left, rays of sunlight piercing the air and filtering past the windows fastened right in front of Elizabeth's bed. She groaned as those first lights creeped in and woke her from her short slumber. Her eyes fluttered once, then twice, then thrice in the morning glow. Her mouth flew wide open as she yawned from the impromptu sleep. Pushing aside the covers that sheltered her, she quickly set about the daily routine she had done for herself most of the time. Get out of bed, wash her face in the sink. Put on her usual clothes. Make breakfast. Read the papers. Pretty much normal stuff. It was the same dress, the same paper she read, the same greeting her dad gave her every morning. Same, same, same...

Right on cue as she was making toast and eggs, Booker stalked into the kitchen with a dishevelled beard, a terrible hangover and a droopy exterior to boot. '_Thank goodness this is not a regular thing. I don't know if I could stand seeing this every day._' Elizabeth sighed as she flipped the egg sunny side up.

"Hey, Anna." Booker drawled complacently as he slumped down on the table in a stupor. He groaned once to indicate his exhaustive state. '_Looks like Dad's staying in today._' She consciously told herself.

"Morning, Dad. Sleep well?" Elizabeth asked him. Booker could do little but answer in that same slur he had.

"About as well as you'd expect." He mumbled. Elizabeth frowned. '_Well, that's what you get when you drink too much..._' she sardonically quipped mentally. The tray caught within her palms was laden with delicious delights and a warm mug of coffee, the good stuff too. If there was one thing she prided herself on, it was her cooking.

"There you go. The usual." Elizabeth said, sounding like a waitress at a diner as she did so.

"Thanks, Anna." Booker nodded, picking up his cutlery and getting ready to dive in.

"No problem, Dad." She smiled complacently. One task done. Move on to the next. She quickly sauntered over to the coat rack and grabbed her plain brown coat and bade to step out.

"I'm going to go get some supplies from the store down the street. Do you need anything, Dad?" She called back to Booker still seated in the kitchen, digging in into his homemade meal.

"No, thank you, darling." Booker responded normally this time around.

"See you in a bit, Dad." She said, walking out into the bustling New York streets. She was pretty much a native to this part of town. Every street, every nook and cranny this place had to offer was known to her from years of traversing on occasion to visit her dad down at the main Pinkerton offices on special occasions and shopping trips to stock up on supplies. Without her, she didn't know what would happen to Booker. Then again, he had managed to survive nineteen years without her before. Perhaps that spoke to the effect she had on him. Walking down to the nearby shop was simple enough. All it took was fifteen minutes. Stepping inside as the door clinked harmlessly with her passing, the shop owner looked up and smile warmly at the young girl.

"Ah, Anna. A little late are we?" The bearded old man answered in a warm smile. Elizabeth reciprocated the gesture kindly, walking up to the counter in a brisk manner. She saw him check his watch at the time of her arrival, no doubt concerned that she was running a few minutes behind schedule.

"Sorry, Mr. Boswell. Dad's been a little busy lately." She explained, putting a hand in one pocket and grabbing a fistful of change in another, placing it on the counter right in front of her.

"Ah, of course. Well, do you want me to go get the usual?" Mr. Boswell spoke gently, sweeping the change off the counter and into his till.

"That will do. Thank you, Mr. Boswell." She told him so, looking around the store in a lacklustre manner as she did so.

"Don't mention it, kid. You've been in here so many times that I know a bit by now." Mr. Boswell commented playfully, shambling away from the counter and heading into the back to pick up her groceries. Now all that she had to do was wait. A whistle there and a slow tune here got here through most of the day. Today however, she felt like humming the tune she used to hum back up in the clouds once. '_It's too bad Booker doesn't play the guitar more often. We might actually enjoy a little bit of song in our life._' She smiled, whispering the words regardless. She was so lost in the melody she harmonized so clearly in her mind that she absentmindedly forgot to clock three mysterious figures stepping inside the store.

"Well, well. What do we have here?" The tallest of the three drew nearer to Elizabeth, smelling awfully like rum and cigarette smoke. The way he menacingly drew closer rang alarms in her head. This guy meant trouble in a bad way.

"Uh, hello. What seems to be the problem?" she replied meekly. '_Okay, Elizabeth. Keep a level head. You're going to be fine._' Her mind blankly recalled as her breath hitched up a notch.

"You Anna Dewitt?" The bruiser inquired, grinning and showing off his yellowing teeth to her. She recoiled further back in disgust, with nowhere else to go. '_Oh, god. Who are these people?_' she thought desperately, glancing briefly at the door where Mr. Boswell just left. '_Please come back. Please come back._'

"Uh, no. My name's Elizabeth." Her mouth stuttered without a single thought. The trio backed up a little at the mention of her given name, but still acting quite beastly within her presence. One of them even salivated and licked his lips with his tongue in an unsavoury fashion.

"Elizabeth, huh? Pretty name. Well if you see Ms. Dewitt, tell her that the Markos brothers ain't waiting around for Daddy to pay his debts." The shorter man chatted to her face while gripping her arm tightly. The squeeze was invariably painful to bear and she was afraid they were going to break it by accident.

"I'll be sure to do that." She muttered as the man finally let go and tossed it aside. Still affixing her with a roguish smile, the trio left the store as quickly as they came, slamming the door behind them with considerable force. She panted deeply at the incident, holding her chest to still her beating heart to something more relaxed and calming.

"You alright there, kid?" Mr. Boswell at that moment chose to step outside, handling a thin paper bag with all her amenities inside. He set the parcel on the counter and rushed over to Elizabeth's side.

"Yeah. Hey, Mr. Boswell?" Elizabeth waved him off, taking the time to compose herself and stand on her own two feet. Again, her innate curiosity got the best of her and she just had to ask.

"Yes, dear?" he replied gently and gracefully.

"Who were those guys who left the shop?" She asked him. Mr. Boswell looked back to the three brothers who by now were loitering on the street across the store, smoking their favourite cigarettes without a care in the world. His face contorted into a deep loathing for their type and fixed Elizabeth with a grim stare on him. She didn't know if she needed to be scared or amazed at his front.

"Those hooligans? The Markos brothers? They own much of the gambling scene around there. Any reason why you asked?" Boswell bitterly replied, jabbing a finger in their general direction multiple times.

"No reason. They tried to strong-arm me." Elizabeth explained. Mr. Boswell quickly got the gist of the situation, throwing his gentle persona back on again to avoid scaring the young woman any further.

"Don't you worry about them. If they try anything, I've got Ol' Bessy in the back." He tried his best to reassure her, even pointing to his trusty shotgun stowed neatly in the back of the store. She did her best to contain her terror but in all fairness, she seemed more concerned about her father back home. '_They know where we live. I hope they don't pay Dad a visit while I'm gone._' She found herself thinking.

"Good... to know. Anyway, thank you Mr. Boswell." She nodded, grabbing the bag in her hands and waving to the kind old man as she stepped outside back into the streets.

"My pleasure, kid." Mr. Boswell replied, watching her go with a smile. '_Good kid, that one..._' he remarked mentally, stepping away and heading into the back to take inventory.

On the way home, Elizabeth was frightened out of her wit. Were there more like the Markos brothers looming around waiting to harm the both of them? How far would they go to get back their debts? And it wasn't like she could do anything in response. She had no powers, only the few firearms techniques Booker tutored her in when she was 14. That wouldn't mean jack if she had no weapon to use. It was a desperate situation she found herself in. If she didn't do something to not only assuage Booker's guilt at the Wounded Knee Massacre and pay off all his exorbitant gambling debts, they would be forever hunted for as long as they lived. It would be even shorter if they caught the both of them.

'_Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt._' The voice echoed over and over again. '_No... Anything but that... There has to be another way..._' she craned her head to figure out another solution as she climbed the steps up to their front door. She raced inside, fearful and paranoid that she had been followed back home by the Markos brothers. Her hands slipped the bag out of her wrists and tossed it on the dining table in a flash, too nervous to finish unpacking the supplies into the cabinet. Utter silence filled the room, nothing but the breeze and the occasional gust of wind echoing outside to accompany her stiff footsteps. That really set off some alarm bells. Where was Booker? Did he leave to rack up another debt? Or did he put another bottle on his tab?

"Dad... Are you home?" Elizabeth called out, inching closer to the study where she hoped she would find him bent over and reviewing his notes. The door was left slightly ajar and it took naught but a gentle push to slide it all the way open to begin with. Nothing. No Booker sitting at the desk, no empty whiskey bottle, no musky air. Just a bunch of rolled up paper and notes on the desk.

Looking around for any clue as to his whereabouts, Elizabeth spotted something peculiar in the top left drawer. Reaching for it with her slender fingers, she yanked out something she thought she stowed away neatly in her room. Apparently Booker thought it fun to snoop around her private place just to check up on her and see if she was following in Daddy's footsteps. But the fact that her hands were cradling the same note and picture sans the instructions and items on hand was a clear indication of what he did. If that wasn't enough proof, her eyes spied a glint of a scrap of paper haphazardly plastered to the table. It read like this...

_Dear Anna,_

_By now you're probably wondering where I am right now. I know you advised me to stay indoors, keep my head down, let the booze flow right out of my systems and just rest. But I didn't tell you something._

_See, I got into a lot of debt with the wrong kind of people. The kind of people who wouldn't think twice about hurting you just to get their money back. The Markos brothers (They run this part of town.) came knocking about a few minutes after you left, demanding I pay them back. They threatened to take you and mail me your body piece by piece if I didn't have the cash to pay them. To be honest, I'm a bit bruised as I write this..._

Elizabeth stopped reading for a moment. '_So that's why the Markos brothers were looking for me earlier. They wanted to use me as leverage._' She figured. Her periwinkle eyes darted back to the makeshift letter in haste.

_Make no mistake... I would have fought like a lion if it came to that. But this was my error to correct, not yours this time. And I haven't exactly been such a good father lately. So when I saw the job offer that you hid away, I had to wonder why you would do such a thing. And then I realized you never did like that floating/underwater city much even when you were a child. You always wanted me to tell you real stories, not fantasies of happy fun lands and stuff. Maybe you didn't want me to get myself killed. But this job is promising something more than just paying off my debts. It's promising redemption for my sins. And I can't pass that up._

_So I'm leaving now to go meet up with the employers and tell them I'm accepting the job. Listen, I want to go pack up your things and head straight for Washington or Paris if you want. My friends at the agency will get you there in a jiffy. When this is all over, I'll come back and we'll go back to the way things were..._

_Always your guardian angel,_

_Dad._

"Damn it, Dad. Damn you, Booker." She swore loudly, tossing the letter aside and storming out of the study. '_Well, if he thinks I'm leaving him to the wolves and fleeing to Paris, he's got another thing coming._' She mumbled to herself, dashing upstairs to pack. She grabbed whatever she could that seemed practical. A proper change of clothes fit for any god-awful situation they would find themselves in. A good luck charm in the form of a silver bracelet one of her friends gave to her during a real tough exam two years back. Looking back into the mirror, she brushed her hair gently with her comb and lapped the water in her palms before dousing her entire face with the cool liquid. Soon enough, all her necessities were stowed away and she was ready. There was no need to pack heavy. Where she was going, there would be no time for such privileges.

"Hold on, Dad. I'm coming with..." She intoned determined to see this through no matter the cost. And so it was that she closed the door on the Booker residence, pulled down her flowery hat and dashed off, to another adventure, another hell-hole to traverse and a father she would not abandon...

**Phew, that's done. Sorry about the whole thing. I was starting to run thin and I need to get back in the swing of things. I'm sad to say that this fanfic will be going on hiatus for a while since I need to ready myself for exams. Thanks so much for all your support and I hope to see you all real soon.**


	4. Peaks Of The Gods' Garden

**Chapter 4: Peaks Of The Gods' Garden**

**Hello everyone. Welcome back to another chapter of A Different Existence, now more popular than my previous outing, Be Careful What You Wish For. Thank you so much for all the support you have given me over the past few days. I hope to be able to continue making this fic as long as I can in the limited amount of time allotted to me. But I also want to promote my first fic, Timekeeper : Resolution which is in its second act to all of you. Any support you shower me with is absolutely welcome. On that note, I'd like to also hear more from you guys about what you think. Leave reviews and provide feedback so I can fix any issues you have as best as I can. Without further ado, on with the show.**

It wasn't that hard to follow the breadcrumb trail Booker left in his wake. One thing Elizabeth could rely on is his sheer predictability, something she never had the chance to note down during their initial encounter. Walking out into the nearby lakeside town near the coast of Maine after a long, arduous journey cross country, she stalked over to the nearest inn she could find. Soon enough, her periwinkle blue eyelids latched onto a drifting piece of dry wood, scrawled in neat carvings the name 'The Songbird's Dew'. It was no surprise that she found herself shaking her head in deep loathing, disgust and a tinge of guilt at the unintended symbolism. How cruel fate must be to give them a free pass when the mechanical monstrosity that simply followed orders that was as much of a victim as they were remained buried under the ocean's lapping waves. The memories were as much a part of her as it was Booker, though in his case to a lesser extent.

As she clambered up the well-worn stone steps up to the entrance, she wondered if he too remembered their shared past, their times in the city in the skies above. '_But perhaps this isn't my Booker. Maybe it's a Booker untainted by Comstock's legacy._' She pondered curiously, sliding the wooden door open faintly and climbing in without a sound. '_But he's still tainted, isn't he? Just by something entirely different._' She intoned sadly, adding a cliff-note to the back of her mind. How could she forget his confession, his fall into the hole he had dug himself? How could she forget what his innate and completely insane manoeuvre was all in service for? '_Guess that makes two of us._' She sardonically quipped, finally settling her gaze on something aside from the battered floor beneath her feet.

The bar looked like an absolute shithole, rotten chairs, tables and the like pilling in haphazard rows to resemble something contrite in a crude manner. Every last one of those tables was occupied with either burly men, filthy men or the few broads who even dared frequent this establishment. But she wasn't here for them. She was here for one person only. Luckily, she didn't have to look long.

"Hey!" A burly voice echoed from one of the four corners of the bar. Elizabeth spun about, her head still partially covered by her frail cloak. Pushing aside some of the crowd with both her hands, she struggled to get a clear picture on the commotion abound.

"What the..." she murmured until she finally managed to shove her way in front of the crowd. Booker was looking completely dog-faced at this point, zoning in and out of his drunken haze with irregular intervals. His head spun around like a ferris wheel on steroids if that was completely possible. Even his clothes wasn't safe, tattered and dirty from the grime on the street. Right across him, a hulking mass of flesh calling itself a bodybuilder sauntered towards him, affixing Booker with the meanest eyes past the west coast. Behind him, a whimpering middle-aged woman was desperately tugging at her honey's arms in pleading. The bodybuilder refused to budge an inch, waving off his lover with brute force and nearly shoving her to the ground.

"I told you to stay away from my girl! Now you're gonna be mulch meat." The bodybuilder spoke with barely contained rage. The whole volcano burst wide open and the bull charged the matador with little disregard. All it took was a simple sidestep and a quick reversal of his hand in a hand-lock tactic before he had the bulky man whimpering in pain like a schoolgirl.

"Argghhh! Little bastard!" He swore incessantly as the vice tightened around his arm. The curse words droned itself out by the throng of watchers whispering to one another. Some of them even looked prepared to make bets on the outcome. Elizabeth cringed when she looked at a greedy onlooker rifling through his ill-gotten gains from the fight's outlook.

"Anyone else want to challenge me? I... hic... I'll take you... hic... all on..." Booker stumbled around the ring of people gathering around him, his head spinning and his speech patterns all but impaired. But his eyes weren't blind and he nearly dropped the glass bottle in his hand when he saw Anna glaring furiously at him in the midst of the crowd. She gave a dejected sigh to herself, stepping forward and grabbing him by the hem of his sleeves.

"Oh, brother... Sorry about that, everyone. Come on, Booker." She mumbled angrily, dragging her drunken excuse for a father away from the scene. She didn't get far though, seeing as how that same muscle-bound douche was standing right in the doorway of the exit. Elizabeth locked eyes with the man, darting once to see him smarting and nursing his probably broken arm. '_So much for being a tough guy._' She swiftly concluded.

"And where do you think you're going, missy? We're not done with your boyfriend here." The douche-bag remarked. Elizabeth stifled a sarcastic laugh in its step for fear of inciting him any further than he was already. '_As if..._' Elizabeth responded mentally.

"Get out of my way." She snarled threateningly. The irony was not lost on the man and he grinned, stepping forward to face this challenger.

"Or what?" He questioned, expecting a whimper for an answer. What happened next had to be both the most excruciating and most embarrassing feat of display acted out against him. Elizabeth's lithe leg came flying upwards in a flurry and a blur, connecting painfully with the man's jewels. The result was quite predictable, his hands cradling his family jewels with a whimper and watery eyes as his feet gave way and he sat down on the floor in the fetal position. No way would this guy ever want to show his face around town ever again. It was nothing of emasculating for a guy like him.

"Have fun trying for seconds, moron." Elizabeth dryly commented, storming out with Booker in tow. Booker groaned in lapses of sanity and drunken haziness, keeping him upright with help from his daughter.

"What... hic... What are you doing here?" He queried with a slur in his voice.

"What does it look like?" Elizabeth responded irritably, dragging his clicking feet across the stone pavement looking dour and upset. '_Am I really doing this again? To come back to this?_' she questioned quietly the futility of her choice. He did not say she could choose otherwise...

"Go back. Go to Washington... Or Paris like I told you too. This job's too dangerous." Booker countered blatantly, wanting to keep her safe at all costs. Something in his mind bubbled to the surface but try as he could, he could not recall what it was. Which of course resulted in another one of those freak nosebleeds... He hurriedly wiped it away from his nose before Elizabeth gazed back at him with those piercing blue eyes.

"Then I'm coming with you." Elizabeth steadfastly stood her ground. Booker looked aghast at the mere thought, almost knocking the alcohol right to his liver.

"I... protest... I'm not... putting you in danger..." Booker exasperatedly exclaimed as best he could in his drunken state. Elizabeth shook her head in defiance, yanking him forward just a little bit more to prove her point.

"You're in no condition to protest. Either we go together or we don't go at all. Take it or leave it, Dad." Elizabeth handed him an ultimatum. Now was the moment of truth. Would he let her in or would he try another stupid stunt? To her surprise, his answer came in the form of a weak nod and a glib remark.

"Since... hic... since when did you become such a tough... hic.. negotiator?" He slurred, feeling his body being gently let down onto the boardwalk with all the grace of a ballet dancer. Then again, he had a daughter who epitomized that ideal. Elizabeth frowned slightly at first, incensed at her father's drunken stupor. In the end though, her kind, truthful smile shone through and greeted him with a smig look.

"Since five minutes ago... Come on, let's get going. We don't want to be late. Drink up..." she said, handing him a small bottle filled to the brim with an unknown liquid. Downing it in one swift gulp, his insides felt strange and his gag reflex was running on overkill. The only thing keeping him from spitting the whole, disgusting excess of fluid out was Elizabeth standing right in front of him and grasping his shoulders as tight as she could.

"Gah! What is this swill?" Booker gasped out after finally swallowing the festering pile of tasteless junk.

"Swill. Help clear your system a bit faster." Elizabeth glibly remarked, taking the bottle away from him. '_You got to hand to her... She knows how to keep you entertained..._' he conceded to himself.

"I'm not drunk... I'm... perfectly fine." Booker murmured as his eyelids took a bow from the stage and went into a short slumber. Elizabeth chuckled at the unintended humour of his ill-advised words, a brief respite from what she knew awaited them above in the clouds. '_Or perhaps the waters below..._' She surmised, unsure of their final destination.

Fifteen minutes later after Booker finally sobered up enough to be considered fit for duty, he and Elizabeth found themselves at a creaky old dock, half of the boards holding it together worn and covered in excess moss. Nails protruded from left to right, bent in a crooked shape that felt unnatural. What's more, the floorboards themselves had large holes punctured right in the middle. To sum it all up, it was a mess. A soaked, pit-filled mess...

"Well, this is the place." Booker threw his arms outwards for Elizabeth to gaze upon. '_Not a good first impressions, I must say..._' she cringed as she fluttered her finger on the mouldy signboard, reading little but a faint name, the Watergate.

"Doesn't look like much." She agreed, nodding her head and walking back to her father's side. Booker spun his head, glancing about for any sign of their mysterious employers.

"I'm more worried about where they are... I... Wait, what is that?" Booker began but stopped as a dim light canvassed through the hazy fog. From out of nowhere stepped the two wonder twins, heralding their arrival with a simple gas lamp and dressed in yellow rain jackets in response to the gale of wind coming up.

"I see you've taken us up on your offer. Get in. We haven't got all day." Rosalind stepped forward, extending a short hand to the duo. Elizabeth glared in spite at her, seeing a retraction of her kind gesture the best way forward. But Booker followed through nonetheless, with a bemused smile on his face.

"Technically we have all..." Robert started, before being shushed by his sister.

"That's enough, Robert. Can't have you spoiling all the details, now can we?" Rosalind spoke warily, giving her own glare at her brother. Robert just looked confused at first, but that soon changed into one of acknowledgment and understanding.

"Fair point." He conceded, shrugging his shoulders. The duo bade to Elizabeth and Booker to follow, which they did with trepidation. A few paces was enough to come with earshot of their craft for the evening, a simple, yet flimsy wooden boat with nary a life ring or spare raincoat in sight. '_Guess these people don't know the meaning of safety..._' Booker commented wistfully in his mind, walking up and clambering into the rickety boat. Elizabeth bade to follow, but felt a cold hand press up against her chest. Looking up from her demure posture, she saw Rosalind gaze upon her with an intense look of curiosity and displeasure.

"Ah, where do you think you're going?" Rosalind murdered her British accent with the grace of a penguin.

"With him. Don't try and stop me." Elizabeth countered, shoving her aside. Rosalind stepped back right in front of her in a split second, holding her back.

"It's not meant for two." She argued, seeing her as a variable that was not meant to be. Elizabeth was having none of that.

"We'll squeeze. Now let me through." She snorted her nose with obvious anger. And she was ready to take it to the next level, if need be had it not been for the timely interval by Robert, who was readying to cast off.

"A new variable then, dear sister?" Robert considered and offered. Rosalind balked at the idea he was suggesting. Surely this could only end in further tragedy. But in the end, she was acquiesce... Just as she did last time. With a heavy sigh, she parted the way for her to cross, earning a grim look from the young woman in a heartbeat.

"I suppose it is..." Rosalind remarked, stepping into the boat with the three. Soon they were off on another one of their merry adventures...

In just a short span of time, the weather took a turn for worseville. The winds began to pick up in speed and sheer fright, the waves crashed and danced around the edges of their perilous craft. Booker found himself watching as Anna griped the wooden supports for dear life, her knuckles as white as snow from it. But if she could tell that he was looking at her, she didn't show. Elizabeth meanwhile merely watched the duo bicker and argue again about some random nonsense. At least, that's what she imagined it to be. While the duo had their best interests at heart, it was quite difficult to see that under their scientific side, the one obsessed with data and experiments.

At the height of the storm, the boat ricketed and rocked its way to the shores of the lighthouse in the vast emptiness of the ocean. The words of the mysterious voice ringed ever so slightly in Elizabeth's ears, even as Booker readied himself to disembark at a moment's notice. '_There will always be a lighthouse._' She stared at the red and white striped conical tower. '_There will always be a man._' She trembled slightly, looking over to Booker yet again just as the boat slapped gently onto the dock.

"I suppose this is where you get off." Robert smiled, pointing a short finger to the wooden ladder right next to Booker and Elizabeth. Their hands and legs stepped up each rickety pole with a steady pace. No rush, no fuss.

"Hey, are we supposed to be meeting anyone here?" Booker called out to the dynamic duo, who began casting off with Robert paddling as he usually did. After all, none of the other three people ever rowed...

"I certainly hope so. It seems dreadfully horrible to be stranded here alone." Rosalind called out from across the sea to the duo standing dumbfounded on the pier. Robert sighed, glancing back at her supposedly-blind sister.

"He's not alone. She's there." Robert corrected her with smug satisfaction.

"She doesn't..." Rosalind opened her big fat trap, only to have her last few words droned out by the breeze of the raging sea. Their clothes blew horrendously in the severe winds and it was a miracle Elizabeth's hems didn't hold a gust of wind and sweep her away like a feather. Booker's jacket and suit flapped aimlessly as well. Watching the boat sail away to parts unknown, Booker looked skywards to the lighthouse with a sense of dread, like as though he had been here before. Memories clouded his mind, doubting much of his super-sleuth abilities right from the get-go. It took a good hard shake to snap him out of it and it did not go unnoticed...

"Well, that was... odd. We better get inside, Anna. Don't want to be caught outside." He dryly commented, watching the small dim light finally extinguish amidst all the blue of the thrashing waves.

"Right, Dad." Elizabeth nodded, following behind her father as they ascended the steps to the door. All around them, water crashed with full force on the razor-edged rocks below. The cool ocean breeze was oversaturated to the point of annoyance, casting them in droplets of salty water and grains of sand. The tower itself was no less imposing for underneath all that paint, Elizabeth could make out several different architecture designs that she had never seen before in either her laundry of books or the newspapers. To be perfectly honest, she was as confounded about this eerie twist as Booker was, even with the hindsight.

Reaching the door, a simple note was stabbed to the door with a rusty yet bloodied blade jutting out for no apparent reason. Booker gazed curiously at the oddity and read the note aloud.

"Do not disappoint us, Dewitt. Well, guess our employers mean business." Booker smarmily commented, reading every swivel of the pen that wrote it into being.

"Do you think that..." Elizabeth started, reaching out for the blade of stained blood. Booker halted her in her tracks, holding an arm out in response.

"With that much blood on it? Someone's corpse is in there. Come on, let's not keep them waiting." Booker quietly informed her, letting his hand drop to his side and pushing the door open quietly.

The next few flights of stairs was uneventful, the only sound to accompany father and daughter up the windows as they slammed back and forth in the wind and the pouring rain. Right up until the body tied to a chair that is.

"Jeez..." Booker glanced at the poor bloke, watching a droplet of blood slide down his covered head through the drawstring bag, making an indelible mark on his swinging arm. As she passed by, Elizabeth could not help but expect to vomit into the nearest receptacle at a moment's notice. For all Booker knew, this was the first time she had ever seen a dead man, let alone such a fresh one. Truth be told, the old Elizabeth would still be in that awkward phase. Now, it was little more than a passing fancy, a mere detail in the works. And she knew the devil was in the details... At an instinctive glance, she moored her eyesight straight towards the global map up above a littered desk of various papers and accessories. Another of those neatly scrawled notes was dotted right on the edge of the world, marked only by a simple red tack to it.

Reading it, it made some logical sense. Maybe someone up above or down below saw them and anticipated the worst. But it was the scrawl at the end that caught her attention. Instead of a neat, loopy C to punctuate the threat assessment, it was coloured by an equally neat and tidy E. '_I wonder who's in charge now? Could it be someone entirely new or someone we know?_' she pondered, wanting to brush off the nagging thought like so many others. But it clung desperately in the end and would not let go. But that was a questions she'd save for another time.

"Found it. Looks like they expect to have us sit in their fancy chairs." Booker called out all of a sudden from above. Clambering up the steps one at a time, Elizabeth saw him strap himself into the rocket-propelled craft with ease. He let his back arch into the soft, red leather and a sigh of relief washed over him.

"Where's mine?" Elizabeth asked demurely, expecting it to be one seater. So it was to her surprise when Booker thumbed over to an identical red-velvet chair sitting precariously right next to him. '_Hmm, must have been a last minute addition._' She thought to herself.

"Oh... Didn't notice that." Elizabeth remarked, stepping over to his side and sitting down in the chair. Instantly, metal cufflinks wrapped automatically around both their ankles and their wrists with great pace, locking them into place. The door that once allowed them passage to the tower's secret closed in on them, enveloping in near-complete darkness, save for one dank window for them to gaze out at.

"What the... Can you move, Anna?" Booker asked, struggling to unravel himself from the chains that held him. Elizabeth shook her head quickly, her arms flailing about in an attempt to free herself.

"Uggh... No... You?" She replied derisively, seeing the ground below them quake in a red flame.

"Trapped like a rat in a cage." Booker replied, still trying to get out of his holds. The shuttle rattled with every second that passed and the yellowish-red flame was only glowing ever brighter. All of a sudden, a smooth robotic female voice announced herself over the pre-recorded system.

"Welcome, visitors. Please keep all hands and legs in at all times for you own safety." She markedly replied, even as the passengers themselves were desperately rattling against the cuffs.

"Damn it..." Booker snarled as five red dots on a center panel blinked.

"Ascending in five..." it spoke in that same flaccid tone.

"Come on..." Booker muttered under bated breath, his wrists trying to claw its way out of the restraints.

"Four..." The first dot blipped out of existence. Elizabeth looked upon it with urgency as her blue eyes widened at each passing second that ticked away.

"I can't do anything." Elizabeth conceded depressingly, unaware of its dual analogy.

"Three." Another dot vanished into the night.

"Shit! Hold on, Anna." Booker cried out to Elizabeth who turned to look at him, startled by his sudden scream.

"Two." The next blinked away, elevating more than just tension in the cramped quarters.

"To what?!" Elizabeth answered in a panic, her eyes darting for a safety net to grab onto.

"To anything! This is going to be a bumpy ride!" Booker replied, quickly sitting back in his chair in light of the events. Elizabeth followed his lead, letting her body crash back against the red leather and grip the armrests for dear life.

"One. Ascending." The final dot flashed away and the shuttle shook violently before the rush of air and the lack of solid ground underneath became apparent. Every few seconds, Booker and Elizabeth would stare out the window out of sheer fright and see their craft soar past the clouds above with dangerous heights awaiting should they plummet. It only made Booker more afraid for the both of them, especially considering how he was watching his daughter cling onto the wooden seat as best as she could. As the rocket pierced the dark skies overhanging the world below, the city of Ascendance blossomed in full view within a heartbeat, rays of expansive sunlight lighting the way forward.

"Welcome to Ascendance." The female P.A called out to the duo. For Booker, the floating city was a wonder he had never seen before. In all his years of cynical drinking and gambling on whatever horse floated his boat, he had never seen anything like this place in his life. Towering landmarks were little wrinkles dotted across the map, illustrating the life the people of Ascendance had made for themselves. What's even more enthralling was the beautiful skyline in the background, framing the whole picture as best as could be. Even more astounding was all this architecture was built to survive both the atmosphere high above and the depths phantoms into the ocean. Many questions arose about how it all worked, some of which he left to conjecture. Elizabeth on the other hand finally remembered a quote from her earlier omniscient self. '_There will always be a city._' The hazy memory washed in with the tide.

Their craft landed neatly into a nearby cathedral, made from mahogany marble, wood and treated metal. A glass painting stood aghast against the backdrop, overshadowing everything in its path. This was the part that Elizabeth was less than knowledgeable about. Only Booker had made this leg of the journey. '_My Booker..._' she reminded herself. Be that as it may, she was another Booker's daughter in the shoes of another Booker's daughter. And that thought was even more confusing than the various titles that once popped up during her sojourn into the multiverse. '_Who had ever heard of naming people that weren't born from dragons that particular title?_' she recalled a minor incident. Her shackles clicked off and she felt liberated, free again to roam Ascendance. Right beside her, Booker was going through the same motions, rubbing his wrists due to his discomfort.

"You alright, Anna?" Booker stepped out of the shuttle, keeping mind to watch out for the low barrier of the door. Elizabeth followed suit, rubbing her wrists in the same manner.

"I'm fine, Dad. Just a little sore in my wrists." She winced as she pinched a swollen nerve. Booker grimaced as he looked around.

"That makes two of us. Where are we? Some kind of church?" Booker inquired, taking in his surroundings. A large statue of an average citizen was proudly emblazoned in front of them, illuminated by the rays of sunlight creeping in through the crevices.

"Appears to be that way. Hmmm..." Elizabeth's curiosity streak kicked in. Booker watched his daughter analyze every little detail with her periwinkle blue eyes and with a soft hum to her lips. It was moments like these that made it worth living.

"We'd better keep moving. We have a girl to save." Booker finally dragged her away, still intent on completing this job so they could get on with their lives. Elizabeth gave a curt nod and ambled after him in quick succession. Stepping forward, they were greeted by an old priest with greying hair, wearing a token black overall and wielding a small bible in his right hand. The man bowed graciously in a kind gesture.

"Welcome, visitors to our fair city." The priest warmly spoke of them. Elizabeth and Booker returned the gesture, both of out of kindness and to avoid blowing their cover.

"Thanks. Do you know the way to... Angel's Crossroads?" Booker paused mid-sentence to pull out the card the Lutece twins handed him earlier. At the mention of the name, the priest visibly perked up, his ears drawing closer as if to catch whether or not he said it right.

"Oh, so you wish to visit the home of God?" The priest replied with a smile. Booker was predictably confused. So too was Elizabeth who eyed the priest with a wary glance. Considering she had to deal with fanatical people before, it wasn't surprising to be on her guard as much as possible.

"I'm sorry?" Booker asked the all-important question. The priest balked at first, looking stunned and shocked by his lack of knowledge. Soon after though, he must have remembered of Booker and Elizabeth's status, rapping his head lightly to jog his memory.

"Pardon me. I forget that you're new dwellers. Well, allow me." The priest grinned, leading the way through the church. As they passed a flight of stairs, Elizabeth noted three paintings depicting a thunderous cloud, a ray of light and a figure descending from the heavens. '_Great, another city of nutjobs..._' she sardonically quipped, her feet keeping pace with the boys.

"Here she is. A monument to our fair and just God." The priest proclaimed proudly, letting his hands fly to the statue and drawing both pairs of eyes to gaze upon it. Booker felt a memory tug away at his mind and he by some sheer feat of instinct felt his hand reach for his pocket and pull out the card yet again, flipping it to show the text behind it.

"Bring us the girl and wipe away the debt..." Booker spoke in a weird tone to himself, audible to what he thought remained his little bubble. Enough of it however caught the ears of the ever attentive priest, who glanced at him oddly.

"What was that?" The priest asked Booker.

"Nothing..." he shook his head in response. '_Where have I heard that before?_' he pondered while taking in the view of the statue. It looked oddly familiar to him for some strange reason. Elizabeth, ever so attentive to the small details was the first to join the dots quickly enough, though her interpretation of the matter was far more complex. That simple wavy hairstyle, the dress she used to wear near the end, the subtle facial features embedded into every caveat of her. All of it was on full display in pearly white marble and it scared the hell out of her.

'_It can't be... That's... That's..._' Elizabeth moaned mentally, cursing over and over again for this rift of time. It took all self-restraint she had left not to beat on the solid floor beneath her with her bare fists and blame fate for setting her to knock her down.

For the splitting image of an older Elizabeth stared right back at her with cold, unfeeling eyes, par for the course of nothing more than a statue...

**Well, that was fun. Thanks guys for waiting this long. I admit this chapter was not exactly my best work thus far but I put in a lot of effort to put it up as soon as possible. Hopefully, I can explain some caveats in the next chapter... Until then, please review, like and fav, stay safe and have a good day...**


	5. Lucky Number Seventy-Seven

**Chapter 5: Lucky Number Seventy-Seven**

**I'm back for another round of this fanfic and hopefully getting even more traction for it. Now I know you're all expecting a daily-ish update, considering there are two stories that regularly update. As much as I would love to do that, I'm just not that good. But I hope to try and match it as close as possible. Anyway, I want to thank all of you for making this a really popular fanfic. Almost 3000 views in just two or three weeks is quite amazing and the fact that there are a lot of favs and likes makes it even better. Maybe I might even list off someone who gives me the best review for my latest chapter... Just to clarify, this is not old Elizabeth like in the game. Think of it more like a thirty-something Elizabeth. Anyway, let us continue with storytime... Just like mom used to do...**

Familiarity was the breeding ground for déjà vu. In many ways, that could be considered a good thing. If you knew when an egg was about to drop on your head, you'd be prepared to sidestep and avoid looking like an omelette in the crisp sun. Knowing the future is probably one of the greatest desires and cons mankind has ever known.

But déjà vu would never come for Elizabeth/Anna Dewitt. That was pretty much chucked out the damn window the moment a statue of her slightly older self in her thirties popped up as the centrepiece of the town's religious extremism. The enemy was her this time around and it sickened her even more than her first taste of blood. Looking back up to the stone marble eyesore, she gave a systemic grunt of disgust before spinning around to meet Booker. She noted that the priest had vanished into thin air, probably going back to his flock of misguided peons for another round of boring words that meant nothing.

"That's the girl. That's the girl we're supposed to bring them." Booker glanced up from the card wrapped in his hand to the statue of older Elizabeth right in front of him.

"What? But I checked the card. The girl had auburn hair and brown eyes, not even mentioning the various facial features." Elizabeth sputtered out incredulously, expressing her disbelief with as many contours as she could muster.

"Not according to what I'm looking at..." Booker shrugged his shoulders, motioning his head to the card in his hand. She gave him a weird look, like he was about to reveal he was drunk again by some degree of fate as she gently pried the card from his fingertips.

"Let me see..." She muttered quietly, her eyes affixed to the card like it was a lifeline. Now it was her turn to be even more befuddled and confused. Staring right back at her was not the auburn haired girl with brown eyes and being Elizabeth 2.0, but instead a clear replica of the statue laid out before her, only with slightly more wrinkles in the sheet of paper. To any significant degree, Booker did not seem to notice the similarities, or at least chose to brush it off to a rare case of genetics. After all, there was bound to be at least someone who looked like his daughter amidst the throngs of billions populating the planet right about now. The paper crinkled under her care, the muscles in her face contorting into deep-seated anger and frustration. Ever the actor, she hid her signs quite well.

"That's... That's not right. How did it change like that?" she finally answered, tossing the crumpled card back into Booker's awaiting hands.

"No clue, kid. No freaking clue." Booker calmed her down, patting her gently on the shoulder and brushing her hair as he once did every day after a bedtime story.

"This was a bad idea, Dad." Elizabeth remarked, reciprocating the response with a short smile.

"I'm seeing that now. But we can't exactly go back now, can we?" Booker turned his head to the smoking vessel, whose plates were glowing a bright red from the extreme heat exuded. Elizabeth nodded slightly, looking slightly bemused by his quick wit.

"I guess not. We'd better keep going then." She collated, affirming their no-going back status with a front. Her feet dragged through the marble halls, now with Booker relegated to the rear.

"Right..." Booker laughed weakly, shambling after his daughter as they journeyed out of the church proper, receiving a small smile from the priest and his flock as they stepped out into the sunlight.

Covering their eyes from the blinding rays of sunlight piercing their retinas with their hands, Elizabeth and Booker was greeted by Ascendance proper in all its full glory. To their right, a group of young students discussed the philosophies of various cultures, debating both its potentials and shortcomings with renewed vigour in their voices. Dressed in plain clothes albeit with a matching white scarf each, the students chattered away with little regard for the two new arrivals walking down the street. A vendor peddled his merchandise on the side of the road, he dressed in an iconic uniform and his cart stocked to the brim with hot dogs, candy canes, candy floss, popcorn and more. His shrill cries to buy his wares was noticeable even from the start, every passer-by stopping for at least one second to browse his goods with a faint hint of curiosity wafting their senses. Some even let them lull into complacency, buying them for the heck of it.

Folks walked around in an assortment of clothes made in modern times. A couple rolled up in one-piece bathing suits, no doubt heading to the artificial beach that was somewhere lost in this grand city. Another group was a well-off class of gossipers, eagerly chatting to one another about the latest rumours. One of them even whistled at Booker for a split second, prompting the usually tough detective to shy away in shame and eliciting a giggle from the gaggle. The buildings had many shutters wrapped around its doors, closed for some inexplicable reason or another. A carriage rode forth, dragged by a simple mechanical contraption fixed to the front of it. To her surprise, her doppelganger had excised the robotic horses of yore and replaced it with another cart wielding a ponderous little thing that had a spinning rotor. One of the pedestrians spoke marvellously about the so-called 'motor' with great wonderment, powered by the sun itself of all things. '_She hasn't been resting on her laurels. That much is certain..._' she admitted, dragging her heels past the device and stalking away with Booker in tow.

"This city is quite the treat. I wonder what it would have been like to live here." Booker exclaimed incredibly, every step of his foot a metaphor for a ticking clock. Elizabeth visibly sighed with her father's words. If only he really knew...

"I prefer New York, Dad. Feels less... eerie." She responded abruptly.

"Anna, you want to tell me what's wrong with you? You've been acting as jumpy as a jumping bean since we got here." Booker asked her with concern rising. Elizabeth did not spin around but continued to talk as she walked, only her back visible to her father.

"I'm fine, Dad. I just want to get this over with and go home." Elizabeth gave the short and sweet answer.

"Anna..." Booker began, trying to coerce her but she caught on quickly, opting to nip it in the bud. Explanations had a time and a place. This wasn't that time and this wasn't the place to do so...

"Can we please stay the course?" she snapped rudely, stopping dead in her tracks to admonish herself and to clearly state her point. Her father visibly repelled back, frightened by her level of rage at that very moment. '_No, but I'm afraid of you._' Came to her mind watching Booker's reaction from the corner of her eye, a physical interpretation of said words.

"Okay... Alright, Anna. Anything for my little girl..." Booker answered, keeping quiet. He could hear Anna sigh with relief, before hearing the click of her heels tap away at the stone pavement once more.

The fair came up into view twenty minutes in, marked by the usual balloons, flags and ribbons tying the whole thing together like a present waiting to be unwrapped. The bustle of the city was in full swing. Music leapt from each and every corner with graceful desire, alternating between a melodious guitar harmonic to a classic group of talented singers dishing out a fine tune for the masses. Children giggled and laughed, running around playing tag and overall just having a good time. Elizabeth looked upon all of this with the same cheerful personality that once defined her as a person, finding herself easily riled up by the entertaining atmosphere. Booker of course continued to smile. Whatever made his daughter happy was enough to make him happy as well. He was a selfless old bastard in that sense.

"Seems we stepped into quite the encore." Booker whistled wistfully, spying a young father throwing a ball at a stack of bottles and knocking them down. The owner handed him a stuffed teddy bear, which the man handed to his son with a grin.

"It's almost like New Years' Day, right?" Elizabeth recalled the night of 1909 when they were gathering with her classmates and his co-workers in the middle of the city to watch the new year start with a bang. Fireworks to be precise...

"Really? You and I have a different recollection, young lady." Booker grinned, stepping forward and keeping pace with her, cocking an eyebrow to demonstrate his fake disbelief.

"That's because you were drinking with your friends from the Pinkertons and I was admiring the fireworks." Elizabeth answered nicely.

"Yep, that was a good day." He proudly stated with a smile on his face.

"Until you vomited on Miss O'Reilly... She gave me a D on Physics the next day." Elizabeth incredulously spoke, sending her father a face of clear disbelief and shaking her head in a preposterous manner.

"I did come over to argue the matter, didn't I?" He offered. '_Oh, yes. How he offered to help..._' Elizabeth sighed with a chuckle to herself.

"Unless you consider locking the door and romping about arguing, sure..." Elizabeth glibly replied.

"Haha..." Booker burst into laughter at his daughter's quick wit. Both father and daughter laughed at the memory of the good times, realistic about their chances. Booker knew that this was a high-risk job and they may not have time for such frivolous time-outs as frequently as they'd like. For Elizabeth, it was not just a possibility, it was a reality...

Finally the fair was past them in the wind, leaving only a pearly-white arch made of the finest wood to pass through to get to where they needed to go. And they would have gotten away with it too, if it weren't for those meddling Luteces...

"Heads?" Robert asked, wearing a simple chalkboard on his back and front. Two columns lined both ends, one with heads and one with tails. Booker's head spun at the dizzying amount of ticks marked in white chalk in the heads department. Tails was certainly in a long tail-spin of bad luck.

"Or tails?" Rosalind finished off his sentence. Just like real twins would...

"You guys again? How did you get here?" Booker asked the both of them incredulously, trying to sniff out the elephant in the room. Instead, all he got was a silver coin with an angel chiselled into it flipped into his hands by the enigmatic Rosalind.

"Heads?" Robert repeated himself.

"Or tails?" she followed suit. '_What the hell are these two trying to pull here?_' he pondered in confusion. He scratched his head for a bit, unable to decipher their seemingly random acts.

"Look, I just want to get on with the job you hired me to do. Now can you please move?" He exasperatedly responded to their queries. The two wonder twins gave him a bemused look and then faced each other in silence. A whisper here and a whisper there was all it took for them to formulate an even more bizarre retort.

"We don't like repeating ourselves." Rosalind grimly replied.

"No, we do not." Robert was the opposite of her, acting cheery and delighted.

"But we have to for the sake of the experiment." Rosalind let slip a tiny detail, hoping that Booker would be able to connect at least one line between the dots.

"Indeed. Procedure is important, sister." Robert nodded in approval. '_These two think this is some kind of lab rat experiment. That's... nuts._' He concluded of the two.

"So..." Rosalind continued.

"Heads?" The third time...

"Or tails?"Again... '_Well, better give the crazies their medicine._' Booker sighed, taking a gander at the coin with his own brown eyes.

"Tails." Booker responded, flipping the coin and watching it sail in an arching motion into the tray Rosalind held out with one of her hands. The coin rattled nosily against the fine china for a few seconds before halting entirely due to gravity. A quick peek showed a true surprise, the first tails of the entire experiment.

"Surprising..." Robert remarked, blinking once then twice at the result. To say his counterpart was flabbergasted was putting it in the mildest sense imaginable.

"I do say... That is remarkable." Rosalind conceded, whipping out a small piece of chalk and pencilling in a tick for the tails section.

"Perhaps that speaks to something new, sister?" Robert chided her gleefully.

"Perhaps. Or perhaps this may be considered a wash." Rosalind tried to rain on his parade.

"But I do enjoy finally getting some satisfaction from this." Robert commented in a drawl, still euphoric over finally earning a spot at the table even if the rest of it was still covered in his sister's handiwork.

"Chin up. There will be a next time." Rosalind brushed his chin and lifted it upwards gently before turning to walk away. Robert followed suit, though not before speaking ruefully about her.

"Sore loser..." he said. Just like that, the two amigos vanished into the crowd of onlookers and fair-goers alike. Booker and Elizabeth just shook their head in confusion, peering in the direction they just left in.

"Those two are short of a few marbles." He remarked sarcastically.

"That was obvious before they started speaking." Elizabeth spoke demurely, like that fact was plain as rice in rice pudding.

"Huh... Never thought of it that way. Anyway, we should be coming up to the Crossroads. You still remember those lessons I gave you?" Booker reached into his back pocket and produced a spare Mauser, all locked and loaded which he handed stock-end to Elizabeth.

"Yes. Doesn't mean I'm going to enjoy this." Elizabeth nodded, accepting the lethal weapon with dread. She didn't really like having to do this if necessary but she knew what had to be done in case all hell breaks loose. Her eyes traced the edges of the barrel and the fine contours of the pistol with a wary glance, the polish shining brightly in the basking light.

"I don't want you to. This is just as a precaution." Her father replied grimly.

"Got it." Elizabeth nodded in agreement, holstering the weapon into her father's birthday present and patting it down twice just to make sure.

Their feet pattered back and forth, dragging their bodies ever closer to Angel's Crossroads. As usual, city life bustled around them like normal, not a care in the world aside from where they wanted to travel to next. At the Crossroads however, things got a little more creepy.

As per the standard logic of big cities founded by one person, the older Elizabeth's likeness was paraded in pure gold in the middle of the crossroads. A plaque underneath read '_Our Angel, Our God, Our Eternal Saviour._' in brass. The statue was posed like an angel would usually be, her arms spread outwards, a bright white halo above her head and wings of pure avarice flapping out from her extended hands. Elizabeth snorted at the idea, reminding her less of a holy messiah and more of the hubris of Icarus in one of her books on Greek mythology. Passing by, she could see a few young kids stop dead in their tracks just to stare awe-struck at the towering pillar of society. One of them even had his mouth agape, probably having a wet fantasy about the still in her prime Elizabeth, with the red ball in his hand plopping down to the ground with a dull thunk. Both father and daughter just kept going onwards, finding nothing interesting to discuss about a city in love with its founder.

"Come on! The raffle's about to start. Step right up and take your number." A fine gentleman in a brown suit barked out to the massing crowd gathering at a simple stage in the middle of the park. Booker and Elizabeth snuck into the crowd to little fanfare and tried to make their way to their intended destination.

"Drat. The crowd's blocking the way." Booker peeked above the heads by standing on his heels, only to see more of them mumbling to one another. Trying to shove them aside did little to break the impenetrable wall of bodies piling up.

"Are they budging?" Elizabeth asked him.

"No." He shook his head as he let his feet touch ground again. Suddenly, a young woman dressed in frilly colours spotted the two of them looking frustrated with the barrier in front of them, which she mistook as irritation at not getting their raffle tickets.

"Hey, mister and miss! Come over here." The girl called over to them. Booker and Elizabeth spun around at her words, wondering what in the world she called them over for. Running was not an option, not in this crowd plus it would reflect badly on their demeanour and risk blowing their cover sky high. Not much of an option was left to them...

"I don't have any money to pay you." Booker calmly explained to the girl, prying open his pockets and showing her that he really was bankrupt.

"Silly, you don't need to pay for the raffle." The girl giggled hilariously. '_Must be new folk if they don't know the rules._' She figured, holding out the basket of paper tickets for them to rifle through.

"After you, Dad." Elizabeth politely offered, eliciting a chuckle from Booker as his hand dug deep into the pile of paper. Wading through the mess, he finally found a ticket he thought to be lucky and yanked it out. The number forty-two looked back at him on the slip of yellow paper, boldly made out in black ink.

"Forty-two. Huh." He smiled, thanking the young lady for her patronage. Now it was Elizabeth's turn to dip her hand in the cookie jar... A few seconds later, she too pulled out a number.

"Seventy-seven." She read aloud to the girl and Booker. The girl clapped her hands together and fixed her with a big rootin' tootin smile on her.

"Ohh... That looks like a lucky number. I'll be rooting for you, miss." The girl winked before disappearing into the masses, no doubt to hand out more scraps of crap.

"Perfect..." Elizabeth sighed, dipping her head down and staring at the ticket for all it's worth, a number in bold black ink.

"Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls! Today, we have a special guest for you. The Angel herself has chosen to deign us with her godly presence this fine evening. From the ivory tower itself, I bring you our God, Elizabeth!" The announcer proclaimed with rejoicing tunes backing him up. At the mention of her own name, Elizabeth's head shot right up just as the woman of the hour walked up onto the stage. The crowd clapped for her fanatically, some whooping, others whistling. She turned and gave a simple wave that made the crowd go into overdrive with the fanfare. It was the first time Elizabeth was coming face to face with her alternate self. Her hair was no longer the shoulder length mess from before, now long and wavy with its brown hairs whipping back and forth in the slight breeze descending down upon them. Instead of a blue and white dress, she was covered in a grandiose white and silver dress, fit for a princess out of any of the fables Booker told her before bedtime. Even her face was dabbed in makeup, though not to a horrendous degree that made her look like a porcelain doll. Accepting the gesture from the announcer, she turned around to address her new flock.

"Thank you, one and all. I do appreciate the warm reception you all have given me. It makes my heart flutter when I hear your rapturous applause even from the street below us. Now, shall we begin? Bring me the numbers, miss and we shall see who gets a fine prize." Alternate Elizabeth snapped her fingers, beckoning the young girl to hand her the box. Reaching inside, she felt for a single piece of paper a few times, just to alleviate the tension wafting into the crowd.

"Thank you. And the winner is... number seventy-seven!" She exclaimed proudly, to the racous applause from the audience. Everyone frantically checked their numbers, some of them visibly upset that they weren't chosen.

"Shit..." Anna cursed, gripping the accursed ticket in her fist. The girl sold her out accidentally, pointing towards the young girl with a shrill cry of happiness.

"Over here! She's the winner!" The girl proclaimed, setting all eyes on her. Booker got lost in the crowd that was now crowding around her, leaving him to battle with the arms and legs of various people just to get even a little breathing room. The spotlight was cast on his daughter and he wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Step on up, winner and claim your prize!" She shouted, inviting her to step up to the stage. Meekly, Elizabeth took a slow climb up the steps to the stage, coming face to face with her older doppelganger. She felt her arm raised by the alternate, the crowd whooping and cheering for her lucky victory.

"My, my. Now I wonder how you got here, doppelganger." The alternate Elizabeth cooed in a hushed tone in Elizabeth's left ear. Tinges of terror and fear panged left and right throughout her body, the contemplation to reach for her firearm all the more invigorating. She would have done so, had the alternate Elizabeth shook her head and shoved her hand back to her side.

"Oh, don't bother. I've seen how this plays out a million times already. I know how this story ends. But then again, that would be spoiling, now would it?" she grinned manically, the words still as soft as ever to the crowd. Out of the corner of their eyes, both Elizabeths noticed Booker shoving his way through the crowd, nearly half-way to the stage.

"Who are you?" Anna inquired grimly of her counterpart.

"I'm you. I just... diverted from what you chose to be." Elizabeth cooed as she spoke, malice and venom dripping from every word like acid. '_How did she fall so easily? Was it Comstock? Or her own doing?_'

"Now then, bring them out!" The counterpart quickly demanded, waving a lithe hand to the stage manager peeking out of the corner. With a straight nod, the curtains parted and the various paper cutouts unfolded in unison, framing the star of the show. On a thin piece of wood, an American fisherman who had strayed too far into their waters was tearfully pleading to the jeering crowd as his cries went unheeded.

"Please! I won't tell anyone! I swear!" He whimpered, still struggling to free himself from the restraints that bound him to the cross. Anna looked at the scene aghast, unable to break free from her alternate's vice-like grip and forced to listen to her spout more fanatical bullshit.

"This vile pestilence from down below, from where we once came wears the uniform of a nation who does not recognize us! We too shall no longer recognize him, save for the scum he really is!" The alternate ranted to the crowd, who in classic fashion rose to the occasion. As Booker tried to pummel his way through, the jeers and cries of the audience started to fade even further into psychopathy, madness and insanity.

"Go on! Bonce his freaky head!" a man cried rapturously as the music swelled into an orchestral slur against the broken fisherman.

"Yeah! Throw that ball right into his socket!" Another one demanded of Anna.

"Now then, let's see what Anna Dewitt will do." The alternate Elizabeth smiled wickedly and let her hand sink back to her own side. Anna stared down at her own hand and found to her horror a baseball of American make clasped in her lithe fingers. The throes of the crowd rose to all new heights and so did the whimpering and the begging of the fisherman. Daggers were stared into the cold, blue eyes of her dictatorial counterpart but she did not budge an inch.

"You little..." Anna snarled threateningly, rounding up her pitching arm and readying herself for a toss at her smug face. The alternate sighed in disappointment, as if she saw this coming and motioned to two officers behind the scenes to arrest. They swiftly descended upon Anna like crows to food and promptly held her hands tightly, refusing to let go.

"Tsk, tsk... Disappointing." Elizabeth frowned demurely as she walked forward and embraced Anna's face with an aura of dread hanging over her. Not knowing what was going to happen next, Anna winced and whimpered in pain as one sharp nail came crashing down on her cheek, drawing a thin veil of blood. Booker only then managed to reach the front, just in time to see his daughter get taken to the cleaners.

"Our winner seems to have a soft spot for these vermin!" The alternate Elizabeth hissed at her bereft of her previous cheery demeanour.

"Boooooo!" The crowd echoed and shouted in unison.

"Hang that usurper by her neck!" A woman screamed at the top of her lungs, her hands wrapped around her mouth to create a makeshift amplifier. Elizabeth grinned wickedly at the inciting horde of angry mobbers, intent on having their way with Anna.

"Ladies and gentleman, she is yours to do as you bid. I shall be off. Have fun!" Elizabeth crooned, blowing a sweet kiss to her more loyal followers. And just like that, she swished the hem of her dress in a pompous manner and left stage left for her awaiting carriage. Anna did not even bother to keep track of her movements. Her predicament was far more terrifying to consider. The screams and the chants for blood echoed in her ear non-stop and she could feel the guards tighten their grip on her hands, nearly cutting off blood flow to that particular zone. Some of the audience whipped out small pocket knives from their coats and raised them high like a revolutionary would at the end of a battle. '_Come on, Elizabeth. Think of something!_' she yelled to her brain which was working on overtime just so it doesn't get fired.

"Anna!" Booker screamed, shoving aside one of the advancing mobbers and pulled out his gun to show he meant business. A woman spotted his manoeuvre in a heartbeat and her shrill voice alerted all to his presence.

"He's got a gun!" Her scream bellowed throughout the park, every pair of eyes snapping automatically to Booker and his outstretched arm. '_Oh, shit!_' he swore mentally.

"Get them! Get them both!" The guard commanded the crowd like his own personal police force. That is, until Booker's hand suddenly flew outward and capped both him and his partner in the head with clean shots to the face. Both guards' bodies slumped to the ground with a dull thud and the shots scared off even the most fanatical passer-bys into fleeing for their very lives. Booker could care less about that, opting instead to race to Anna's side.

"You alright, Anna?" Booker hoisted her up from the floor.

"I'm fine, Dad." Anna reassured him meekly, rubbing her cheek of the blood that was slipping down her face. Tiny droplets of the crimson red stained her outfit, something of little importance in the grand scheme of things.

"Let me... Drat!" Booker swore unexpectedly as a stray shot whizzed past his head and smacked into the wooden background right behind the two of them. A squad of Ascendance's finest were clambering up the steps and flooding into the park, cutting off their escape routes effectively.

"There they are!" A guard shouted, laying down suppressive fire with his own Mauser.

"Move, Anna!" Booker screamed, helping Anna up from her position and jogging to the nearest bit of cover they could find. As rounds flooded downhill, Elizabeth could not help but wonder the state of her doppelganger. But the voice was kind enough to part her with some winning wisdom.

"To choose is to be free. To follow is to be shackled. But to control the right to choose? That is true power. That is what your enemy preaches." The familiar voice echoed in her head at such an inopportune time. One way or another, this was the beginning. All that mattered was whether it was for the end of all things, or the journey to something new...

**I... honestly have less on this than I'm used to. This chapter was a hard thing to write down and I ran out of inspiration three-quarters of the way. Hopefully, we can get back on track next time and get some real stuff going. Until then, have fun and be CO-OPERATIVE!**


	6. Parameters Unset

**Chapter 6: Parameters Unset**

**Chapter 6... Whoohoo! Finally back to something resembling coherency. Maybe this one will get the story going for a bit. Seeing as how my stories usually start out slow at the beginning, I hope to heighten the pace to an acceptable degree. Thanks for all the favs, follows and reviews thus far. It really means a lot. Now on to the show...**

Elizabeth cried hysterically, a callback to her original self as a hail of gunfire descended on Booker and herself. Booker grimaced, knocking off a few rounds at the encroaching platoon of guards whilst behind some of the cardboard cutouts placed rather strategically around the field. Booker kept on shooting, patting Elizabeth on the shoulder and grabbing her attention.

"Get out your gun, Anna. We need to fight our way out if we're to have any chance of lasting past today." Booker practically ordered in a frantic manner, suppressing the few remaining brave souls who dared peek even one quarter of their body out of cover. With a tremble in her nerves, her fingers slowly pulled the heavy, cold metal from her pocket and took aim. One lone, unsuspecting gunman was about to have his parade rained upon and Elizabeth wasn't exactly sure she was ready for it.

"Got it..." Elizabeth replied hesitantly as she took aim. Her breath hitched in her throat and time collapsed around her, adrenaline pumping vigorously through her veins and mind. The sights went up, her target came within range and there was little else but to pull the proverbial trigger, both physically and metaphorically.

"Forgive me." She muttered in distraught as her finger tepidly squeezed the mechanism, sending hot lead down range. Had it missed, it would have been more of a breather, something to whet the requirements thrust upon her. Instead, she got a crimson red star for her violent headshot, sending the poor policeman's corpse tumbling backwards and bumping down the stairs in cold silence. Red grass was introduced to the field, its shine amidst the sun's bright light illuminating it like it basked in glowlight. '_I can't believe I just did that. I... shot a man._' Elizabeth ruefully remarked, only realizing the irony of her past experiences sooner rather than later.

"Good shot, Anna! Shoot! Two more coming up on your right!" Booker's booming voice echoed in her ears, a ringing reminder of the battle still raging around her. Snapping out of her deep thoughts, she spotted the two amigos trying to flank their position with extreme prejudice, armed only with steel batons and a suicidal death wish.

"I see them!" Elizabeth responded, opting this time to cleanly smack a casing of metal right into their kneecaps. The bullets shuddered their bodies in slight convulsions as the metal broke bone and cracked their joints, sending the two tumbling to the ground, clutching their knees and screaming out in agony. '_Guess they really wanted to experience Wounded Knee._' She dryly joked internally.

"Nice!" "We have our opening! Make a break for it!" Booker pointed to a gap in their defences. Elizabeth merely nodded in affirmation, making the first move for the duo. Her feet scampered down the grassy meadows and back onto the streets of Ascendance, dashing past a concubine of stores, homes and establishments with every corner. Booker followed suit, his own feet tapping furiously on the stone pavement as he struggled to keep pace with his sprightly daughter who had far more energy than he did. In pursuit was the remaining few officers still left standing, kept at bay by suppressing shots from Elizabeth and Booker at regular intervals. Finally spotting an inconspicuous store by the wayside after turning yet another corner, Elizabeth motioned to the entrance and dragged her father by the crux of his hand into the safe haven. Both sets of hands shoved two adjacent bookshelves in front of the door after slamming it shut right behind them. Both of them breathed laboriously from exhaustion, hearing the thunderous rapping of feet slipping past them just outside. Their shadows flitted past the small gap left open to them, occasionally blotting out the single ray of sunlight dripping in through the crack, till it stopped and all was silent.

"That was... too close... pant... pant..." Elizabeth gasped in relief, putting a lithe hand against her still beating chest and letting her other hand relax around her weapon, though not to the point where she could not reach it at a moment's notice. Booker's own pants was scattered amongst her own, his own breaking point not too far off.

"What the hell happened back at the raffle?" He inquired, still glancing outside to check if the coast was clear.

"Our target tried to kill us. That's what happened." She retorted plainly. Now it was his turn to be befuddled by the sudden turn of events.

"But why, Anna? Why would she want to kill us?" he pressed the question. Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders in tepid response.

"I honestly don't know, Dad. It doesn't make sense." She said to him.

"Guess our parameters will have to change." He stated, clearly seeing no benefit in keeping a target alive if said target would dare harm his daughter as soon as he turned his back to her. '_But where have I seen her before? I... Agghhh..._' The fuzzy memories started resurfacing, flashing images through his mind that had no theme surrounding it, despite its familiarity. Once again, his nostrils started to drip blood and yet again, a clean wipe covered all wrongdoings from Anna's blue eyes.

"Maybe. We won't know until we find her." Elizabeth starkly responded, reeling in the memories of the last few minutes as best she could. Booker's heart leapt an inch at her determination, unsure if exposing his daughter to more violence was good parenting.

"You up for more? It can't be easy, doing what you did back there. I sure can't foresee that..." He grimly stated, finally pulling some courage from the depths of his heart to peel back the impromptu barricade and glance outside for any sign of trouble.

"If this helps us get our life back, then I can handle this. It's like you said to me. Sometimes we have to live with the choices we make and the consequences we bring upon ourselves." She retorted, pulling out words of wisdom she had once heard him utter many years ago. Clambering back to her feet, she joined Booker at the doorway and squeezed through the narrow gap and onto the street laden with carnage. Pushing aside the drawer, she let Booker free from his proverbial cage and held on to her sidearm like it was her best friend in the world. As the sun cast a dim shadow over them, Booker followed after his little girl willingly, only stopping once to look back on the road thoroughly travelled.

"Heh... If only..." He mused, vanishing along with his daughter into the winding brick roads paving the vast cityscape.

Three Hours Later

The next three hours was markedly hectic. After a harrowing trip through the market which yielded a frantic gunfight, Elizabeth and Booker finally arrived at their intended destination, the home of the Alternate Elizabeth. Their worn boots clomped up the marble-tiled stairs and walked right up to her doorstep. As they climbed up those very stairs which seemed to stretch on forever, Elizabeth had many questions pop up in her mind, undoubtedly due to the unexpected presence of her duplicate pouncing about like a psychopath. At the market, she noted the shrill battle cry the guards echoed like the Red Indians once did before their horrific massacre, full of pride, honour and will to fight for liberty. It was what signified America and what really chilled her bones after having heard the same rhetoric from an equally sadistic man. '_No, she can't be like Comstock. We killed him. He shouldn't exist. He just can't..._' she repeated like a mantra, again and again and again. She nearly lost her footing too, barely able to stand upright and stabilize herself before she somersaulted some hard surfaces. An apologetic reply to a concerned Booker was still not enough for her to drop the issue. Each question she answered was replaced with yet another prowling the edges of her sanity. '_There has to be an explanation... I need to know..._' she concluded, to her mind's joyous delight.

Meanwhile, Booker glumly sprang forth and took the helm of this operation, his hollowed boots patched up and sporting clean holes in the fabric. His face was steady, at the ready but his mind was equally transfixed, though it was more to his daughter's odd behaviour more than anything else. Ever since a young girl, any headlines regarding this floating marvel terrified. He remembered as a young girl, she would cower behind his broad legs and whimper whenever a newsboy shouted out the story at the top of his lungs. Booker pretty much had to lock himself in his study to read that week's round of papers for fear of bringing his little girl to tears. '_I wonder why she never liked this place. Sure, it's got its crazies but it looks like a grand place._' He pondered aimlessly. As his head swivelled about and watched his hand grab hold of the polished doorknob leading to the God's hallow halls, it still nagged him alongside the throbbing tumour of unfamiliar memories swirling about.

Throwing the door open, both father and daughter quickly burst in, guns raised and trained at their flanks. Silence greeted them, a thin veil of dust and wind lapping across their ankles through the wide-open door. Each room was swept and cleared one by one on the lower halls, depicting not the lap of luxury as one would expect, but merely a modest outlook and furnishings to go along with it. A fireplace had its flames dancing about on the wooden logs like ballerinas at a dancing studio, the calming flames a direct contrast to the moody atmosphere Elizabeth felt tingling through her skin. Up the stairs Booker went and a shock he was given in return, evidenced by a startled yelp emanating from up above.

"Holy...!" He cursed, eliciting a response from his daughter, her head whipping almost violently so in the direction of his voice.

"Dad! You okay?" She cried out, inching closer to the staircase and propping a single hand on the wooden handrail.

"I'm fine, Anna. But... Holy shit..." Booker reassured her shakily, peeking out and fixed with a face plastered with complete horror and terror awash on his face.

"What? What did you find?" Anna pressed the matter.

"You'd better see for yourself, Anna." Booker ominously retorted. Now that really piqued Elizabeth's attention and curiosity. Step by step, her lithe feet climbed up the mahogany polished wooden steps with trepidation and flaming ponderment. What secret had her father stumbled upon? It was only until she was right in the middle of the door frame did she realize why her father had taken the time to gasp.

"Oh my God..." her own murmured disbelief came flying right out from her tongue. A normal four walls room refurbished into a grand study was absolutely wrecked from the looks of things. The desk heralding the arrival of documents concerning the going-ons of the daily routines of Ascendance warped visibly back and forth from one dimension to another, replaced by desks of varying colour and make, sometimes even completely changed into a new object. What made it more strange, at least for Booker was the odd static bursting with each interval change, Elizabeth immediately recognizing the tell-tale signs of a tear gone horribly wrong. Her mind flashed back to one particular incident back in pre-omniscient Columbia, where Booker bore witness to her fluctuating powers, culminating in a tear placed near a tree suddenly erupting into a flaming pile of ash with the sounds of shrill battle cries signifying something called the Viet Cong vibrating in their ears before the affair was over.

As her periwinkle blue irises scanned the room further, even more signs of unstable tears were definitively present. The fabric of reality in that space was as weak as the seams of that overly tight corset Marie Winterson gave her for her 18th birthday. A jewellery box here and a cabinet there. Everything was up for grabs. But what really set the scene for a bout of insanity-driven madness were the scrawls. Across the white-wash walls, the floor and surprisingly the ceiling, various words were gashed out with what appeared to be a serrated double-edged blade. The wallpaper sagged in certain parts and downright drooped in others, as long as the meaning made itself ever clear. To Booker, it would seem like gibberish. But to Elizabeth, those words had some ancillary meaning behind them.

'_Need him back. Must bring him back._' Went her sentiments as she read the crude words right across the walls. '_I should have stopped him._' Went yet another. It wasn't just the ramblings of a crazy woman off her rocker. This was an Elizabeth who let the same overriding guilt her father once instilled trample all over her and still being the omniscient god she was, she vented her frustration in a different way. To no small surprise, as soon as her mind finally came to that viable solution, she felt her essence being ripped violently from her body and plopped right back into the land of the crazies. The voice boomed and hounded the limitless walls trapping her in eternal darkness, no avatar or face to go with it.

"I see you've found the hall of a madwoman." It cooed, circling the woman, pale thin black fog streaming right behind him wherever he went. Elizabeth gasped as her body finally collapsed on the dark-grey floor, her eyes darting to meet the trail of wispy smoke as it flew around her.

"Is this what you wanted to show me? How far she fell down the rabbit hole?" Elizabeth asked, a sneer worming its way in. His lack of response made it clear she hit the nail on that one.

"Do you know where this point diverted from?" It whispered, edging at the edges of her ears and feeling her flesh chill at his words. Her brain oiled its gears and spun them madly as he resumed his monotonous pattern, doing its best to decipher its words. And when clarity, when understanding came soaring out of the sky like an angel, Elizabeth snapped her fingers in a classic Eureka moment.

"I... From... From... From my decision. But you left me no choice. You forced me into it." She stuttered incoherently, the words as fresh as the dots all joined together.

"Not necessarily. If you recall, you hesitated at my words, not risking any chance of me telling the truth. In a way, seeing my powers convinced you of my certainty. But in another place, in another time..." It did its own impression of a human's disagreement, failing in which to drive home the message. Elizabeth took his trailing to mean that it was her turn at the table.

"She called your bluff and left of her own accord." She responded.

"You may be happy to know that she left me in a... pitiful state after that incident." It derisively mused, the scars barely healed before he dragged back here. The woman in front of it grinned like a Cheshire cat, applauding the mere hint of vulnerability it has shown.

"You have powers though. Why couldn't you stop her?" Elizabeth instinctively asked, her foot tapping one, two on the floor underneath her shoes. The voice intoned gravely, wincing as a sharp stab of agony rippled through its body.

"I couldn't stop her because I had no time to charge the required energy needed for such an elaborate scheme. You on the other hand gave me plenty of time to work my magic." It groaned out sarcastically.

"Heh... I don't know whether to be proud or just plain insulted." She responded in kind, stifling a chuckle that built up in her throat.

"Hahahaha..." It chuckled dryly.

"So what now?" Elizabeth posed the million silver eagle question.

"Now? Miss Dewitt, it hasn't even truly begun." It responded, clearly annoyed and bemused at her naive nature. You'd think having the scenarios' outcomes at your fingertips would make you less oblivious to these things.

"What are you talking about? I found out the truth. End of story." Elizabeth retorted, herself confused by his confession.

"If it were the end, you would be back in your ivory home, cuddled up by the fireplace. But one piece of the puzzle does not equate to true understanding." It gave a crooked smile. And per his usual arrangement, his arm flailed to the young woman standing before it, a ball of white energy enveloping her. Blinded by the searing light, her blue eyes watched as her body disintegrated for the third time this week alone.

"Not again... Come back!" She screamed in defiance as her skin peeled away around her mouth till she was no more yet again. The last thing Elizabeth saw of her temporary prison was the figure, finally taking on a human form, even if it was nothing more than smoke and mirrors holding it in place.

She felt her feet thud gently on the hardened wooden floor beneath her, reality sinking back in. Her body collapsed from the strain, the weight of her body buckling her legs into jelly-like matter. '_I'm... I'm back here again... Why? What else is there to uncover?_' she muttered feverishly, hearing footsteps clomp towards her body.

"Anna!? Anna!? Talk to me! What's wrong with you?" She heard Booker's concerned voice ring in her head, feeling his arms wrap around her body and his eyes staring deep into hers.

"Booker..." She mumbled, so weak to even twitch a finger in response.

"Hang in there, Anna. I'm going to get you out of here." He said. Elizabeth felt her body shift its weight at the end of her legs, her body dragged along the carpeted floor with brute force.

"Booker..." went her mumbles yet again, her eyes blinking rapidly between cohesion and rapid madness. As her mind retreated to its basest instincts, she felt several thuds ripple through her body and her head, the dragging of her feet a constant in her ears. It was only a few seconds to Elizabeth till she awoke from her forced slumber in the ruins of a store.

"Wake up! Come on! Wake up!" Booker's voice cried out. His hands shook her body back and forth, desperately seeking a sign of her continued survival.

"Uhhhhhhh... Dad?" she groans, regaining consciousness.

"Oh, thank god! You're alright." Booker gasped out in relief, wrapping his arms around his daughter in a tight hug. Elizabeth shuddered slightly from the pain but eventually reciprocated the notion, her own arms locking her father in the same manner.

"I'm okay, dad." She softly answered, patting his back.

"I thought I almost lost you." Booker sobbed tearfully. No father wants to lose their daughter. Not even a hard-boiled killer of men and women... It wasn't really a stretch of logic to come to that ultimate conclusion.

"I'm fine, dad. Really, I am." She did her best to reassure him. She heard him weep in short bursts, culminating in a final sob and his hands wiping away the tears rolling down his face and onto the back of her dress. Looking around, Elizabeth could tell they were no longer in the home of the so-called 'God'.

"Where are we?" She couldn't help her curious nature.

"An abandoned storefront just outside her residence. I couldn't exactly carry you around that long, even with my upper body strength." Booker replied, cracking wise to lighten the mood and his own fragmented feelings.

"Are you calling me fat?" Elizabeth responded in kind.

"Now why would I do that?" he grinned sheepishly at her remark. Elizabeth smiled, playfully punching him in the shoulder and laughing too.

"You sure know how to keep things jovial." She concluded wisely.

"Anytime, dear." He said, with a hint of dry wit. Just then, his stomach start to growl like an angry bear awoken far too early in his hibernation. Elizabeth's face quickly displayed said concern in the time it took a bird to cheep at the wildlife.

"Did you have anything to eat?" she asked of him. Booker shook his head in grim response.

"Haven't checked yet. I just dragged you in five minutes ago." He looked back at the barricaded door. His stomach growled again, the concern on Anna's face rising as it did.

"Okay... Well, there's a kitchen right in front of us. I'll go look through the pantry in the back, see if I can't find any food for the both of us." Elizabeth assessed her situation and came to a solution in a flash.

"Be careful, Anna."

"Don't worry. I promise I'll be back in a flash." She assured him, racing off to look in the back.

The cupboards were not completely bare, still stocked with cheese, meat and several vegetables Elizabeth had the pleasure of tasting back when Booker still fed her with a spoon. What fun it was to hear him sing the train song with every bite. She smiled warmly at the memory, before remembering to grab a box of cereal off the counter before she moved on. The doors were flung open, drawers tossed out in annoyance, but she eventually settled on a medium-sized buffet that would last for the night. After being on the run, albeit briefly, they deserved a break.

That night, a candlelit dinner was only thing keeping them on their toes. Elizabeth laughed as she chowed down on her own creations, Booker having told another joke.

"Do you remember when Uncle Wright took a fall off the stairs during your visit to the office?"

"He tumbled like an egg. Uncle Slate burst out laughing. Said he hadn't seen a bald eagle fall head over heels!"

"Hahaha... I think his belt was threatening to come off! The old cad then drags him up and shoves him to the receptionist, tells him, 'Go on, champ. You've made a good first impression. Not everyone starts their proposal with such a literal term.' Boy, did the whole office sing their chuckles like a band!"

"Hahaha..."

"Oh, that takes me back. Back to the good ol' days."

"We'll still have them, Dad. You'll see."

"Yeah, I hope you're right."

"Well, good night, Anna. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Dad."

As her eyes closed, her head rested and perched on the makeshift bed laid out on the hard wooden floor, her mind was transported back to the voice in the dark room. It looked so familiar to her own that she had no idea if she was still in her consciousness or his. Either way, the voice drifted as a plume of black smoke in front of her, a thin line of red its supposed smile.

"So, another day has passed. How many do you think will pass before we reach our final destination?" the smoke echoed within her mind, the question as rhetorical as ever thanks to its delivery.

"A lot more, all things considering..." She huffed with dismissal, knowing his game. She waited for a minute, her foot impatiently tapping on the otherwise cold stone underneath her. _Thump, thump, thump_. A musical track all on its own. And yet the smoke column looked innocently into her periwinkle blue eyes, mocking her intelligence.

"Well?" she frowned.

"Well, what, Miss Dewitt?" it countered basely.

"I want the truth. What did you mean by, '_Your story isn't over._'?" Elizabeth brought the glaring issue up.

"What do all serial killers have in common?" he posed yet another sideline.

"No human decency?" she sarcastically off-handed his attempt.

"No, they have a goal. And it just so happens that her goal will tear the fabric of this balancing act into shreds." Its tone of prophetic nonsense cleared the mental barrier in her mind.

"And you think I can stop her?" she queried.

"What makes you think you can't?" It responded, sensing her self-doubt in her prowess.

"She still has her powers. I don't." The reply was as simple as it was direct.

"And that is an excuse. If that is your only grievance then I could bestow it upon you." The voice raised itself even higher as it readied to channel back her unique skills back into her new body, at least until her hand raised upwards in a sign of complete disagreement.

"No, I just... I just got Booker back. I'm not losing him again to another universe altering event." She intoned sadly, her mind racing back to the scene of the crime. Elizabeth shuddered to think of any other possible solution. She had told him herself that she wanted to leave, to let bygones be bygones. And he persisted. All because of her. They had formed a bond, a bond that in the end died along with them. She wasn't Elizabeth now as much as this Booker wasn't her Booker, if that made any sense. The fact that she was even dealing with this alternate universe mess again made her fear the possibilities of the inevitable end.

"You killed him yourself." The voice retorted with a snort, albeit a neutral one.

"It was NECESSARY!" her anger bubbled to the surface with his comment. Her body reacted instinctively, moving forward, hopelessly trying to grab the column of gas and throttle it, punch it, whatever she could do to harm this insulting omniscient being. To no avail and to no surprise, nothing she did would bring the pain to him. Instead, it seemed to hurt her wrist and waist with each failed attempt. Exhausted, she fell to her knees, breathless and too tired to look at the smoke column looming over her shoulders.

"Oh, how naive you are to believe that. Truly foolish indeed." It crooned, mocking her yet again. It was basically a kick while she was down.

"Stop... Just don't. Now tell me how I can stop her." She panted exasperatedly, pulling herself to her feet.

"Sigh... For starters, you will need to seek out your dear Uncle Slate." It sighed, obliging her desire.

"Why? What role does he play in this?" She tried to press the issue further. He would have not have any of that however, remaining silent the whole way through.

"Soon enough, Miss Dewitt... Now sleep, for you will need it in the days to come." And sleep did come. Forcefully, by its hands. Her eyelids fluttered shut and the view into whatever mind she inhabited faded away into pitch black darkness. What little remained blurred into a messy whole, obscured to her memory. And when she woke, all she would remember was the goal, the drive to push forward. This mercantile deal would not last. But for now, it would be enough.

And when the rays of sunlight hit, Booker would hear only one word whisper its way out of his daughter's lips. A name he had heard before.

"Slate..."

**This may just be the last chapter of my handiwork. I'm too busy to update and writing has become a lot more harder with each chapter. I may just pass this on or it may remain in cryo. Whatever the case, do not expect much. Thank you for those who have followed thus far and hopefully we may come back to this soon...**


	7. From Above To Below

**Chapter 7: From Above To Below**

**Welcome everyone to Chapter 7. Hope you will enjoy this. As I write this, I'm in the midst of reshaping my schedule to better fit my new study regimen. As a result, this chapter may end up in your hands probably a long time after this weak start. But I'll try my best to make this one worth the time. As always, send in your reviews, likes and favs and thanks again for supporting my work. Now, on to the show...**

Elizabeth felt her lips echo a thin groan as she awoke yet again for the umpteenth time that day in another unfamiliar location. Now, her feet found purchase around a landscape resembling something more akin to a residential house. Where exactly, she could not place... Judging by the look and the aesthetic of it, she was far away from the glitz and glamour of the more wealthy forefronts.

In front of her, the wallpaper was peeling in two corners, the thin sheet nearly hitting the floor below. It would make little difference anyway since it was faded out and completely devoid of colour, life or personality. It might have been simple brick and mortar for all the good it did. And even that had issues, long edged cracks zigzagging across the length of the room with dust gathering in clumps under the more hard to reach places.

Neither place nor time mattered when compared to her kind father's face hovering over her own, a smile crowning his lower half strongly. Elizabeth smiled back as she propped herself against the hard brick wall behind her and used her lithe hands to prop herself steady despite her condition.

"Easy... Easy there, Anna. You passed out again." Booker huffed, producing a damp cloth from out of nowhere and dabbing her forehead with all the caring he could muster. Elizabeth reciprocated this feeling with a sigh, upset that she was being babysat again like a small child.

"Heh... That's twice now." Anna winced, backpedalling with a shake of her head when Booker looked absolutely mortified. "Don't worry. Probably just exhausted, that's all." She replied quickly.

"Okay... I guess you'd better keep out of trouble, young lady." Booker spoke gruffly, putting on a facade he didn't really need.

"Dad, I'm a Dewitt. I don't need to find trouble. Trouble finds us." Elizabeth cracked wise, finding enough strength to pull herself upright.

"Atta girl." Booker smirked, patting Elizabeth on her left shoulder three times. Standing up, he headed towards a nearby table, on which laid a deluge of firearms from Mausers to revolvers and shotguns. Taking one of the revolvers in his scarred hand, he felt the cold, hard metal crease gently across his palm, the handiwork marred by use and tapered paint. As Booker dressed down the firearm, his hand started to stain with the gold paint used to adorn the art, ironically making him yellow up to his hand. Six rounds lined the edge and all of them were chambered one by one. Each round clicked into the revolving cylinder with ecstatic joy. '_The day I get used to this is the day I turn sober._' He nonchalantly convened within his thoughts.

The click-clack noise kept Elizabeth on the edge of her seat, never once allowing her to falter and plunge back into another dream-filled rest. Instead, that and keeping a watch on the barricaded door right in front of her would suffice at this point in time. Glancing for just a second downwards, she could no longer recognize the neat clothes that her dad bought her one Thanksgiving night. The white pleats were muddled, soggy and draped in a sickening pale brown colour. The hems of her skirt was slightly ripped, not to the point of sheer embarrassment but to a degree that her cheeks flummoxed red when she considered whatever method Booker used to drag her here. Her sleeves were of equal note, in disrepair and wanting of a first-class tailor to allow to last the night. Alas, there would be no time to worry about durability.

"I think we're all set. Here..." his voice cried out at the edges of her ears. She quickly turned around and caught the incoming shotgun with ease, the metal feeling right at home in her palms.

"Where'd you get this?" She spoke incredulously, making note of the weapon's condition being so well kept despite the paint's fade clearly indicating its age.

"From our previous residence. Turns out the owners had a secret stash hidden away underneath one of the floorboards. Dumb luck that turned out to be." Booker called back, holstering his trusty sidearm at his side and grabbing a boomstick of his own off the wooden table.

"So, what's the plan?" Elizabeth asked.

"The plan? What makes you think I have a..." Booker started to sound off when that familiar dull throbbing and flash of light swizzed past his irises in a blur. The sound of her daughter's voice was fading into the background, replaced slowly by plain white noise.

"Dad? Are you okay?" Elizabeth took a step forward, a level of concern plastered dementedly over her features. Her brows furrowed and her eyes narrowed as she took in the sight of Booker swaying off balance.

"I'm fine. Just feel a little dizzy." Booker heard his throat cough up even as the voice droned out and devolved into gibberish. As his nose dribbled yet another small dosage of thick, red mess down his face, his hand barely had the strength to wipe it off in time. The memories that once felt fleeting at best had chosen to gain clarity at this venture. The images still passed by in a heartbeat but now his eyes and his mind could take a gander at the few that did slow down. A picture of his hand shot out, firing bolts of pure electricity at guards atop a massive airship. A blurry figure tossing a silver coin with an eagle into his bandaged hand. The... the... the twin scientists. Booker's mental projection stood aghast as he watched his employers repeat the same instructions to him. But as he continued to observe, he found it completely different. No Anna sitting right next to him in the rickety boat. A box of belongings oddly similar. But lastly, the same blurry persona stamped out on a postcard with loopy handwriting with direct instructions to bring to New York.

"Dad?" Elizabeth's voice popped back from out of nowhere. The veil of transparency was shattered. Like glass against a fast ball, the images broke apart and seamlessly transformed into wisps of smoke and fragments. His mind reached out for the one piece on the floor, the one depicting the unknown person and held on for dear life, even as all around him, the black canvass melted away and reality sunk back in.

"Dad?!" Elizabeth added more force to her rapt command for his attention. Booker's head awoke and shook itself, a common practice he found invigorating, especially after travelling to the realm of fantasy.

"Sorry, sweetheart." He remarked, one final shake completely rooting him in the land of the living.

"No need to apologize. Well?" Elizabeth brushed it off, confident as she was in her dad's latent talents.

"Um... Yes. Anyway, you mentioned Uncle Slate when you were out cold." Booker gestured with his hand as he struggled to recall events still fresh from yesterday.

"I was... uh... dreaming about the past, Dad. I don't see how it is relevant." She queried, puzzled by how he latched onto that bit of info.

"Well, maybe... Maybe we can find him. Gather our bearings. He owed me a couple of favours when he left. This seems like the right time to cash in." He went off on his own little tangent, leaning out of the windows to see if the coast was clear.

"And where would we even begin to look? And what if he doesn't want to help us? You heard the P.A announcement." Elizabeth rattled off question after question, wanting to assured that this master plan wasn't a one way ticket to the grave.

"If he won't help us willingly, then we'll resort to more... unconventional methods. If... and only if it comes to that. As to his whereabouts, I have a feeling he'll be cooped up in a law-enforcement station. We just have to find a map and we'll be set." Booker laid out his master-plan.

"Are you insane? You want us to go storm a heavy-fortified building filled with people who want to kill us in the hopes we find him? Since when did you start getting suicidal?" she spoke incredulously, unconvinced.

"Since yesterday... Look, Anna... This is our best... our only shot at getting this done and getting off this floating horror show. Are you with me?" Booker regretfully lamented, a deep sigh escaping him. It didn't take even a split-second before Elizabeth also replied in kind and started shambling over to her father.

"Sigh... I'm always with you, Dad." She answered, stretching out her arms and grasping him in a tight vice-like hug. Booker seemed shocked, almost universally so for some odd reason. And yet, his muscles relented, relaxed and let this gesture play itself out. Why ruin such a good thing? Elizabeth's mouth slowly edged towards Booker's ear and her lips moved ever so slightly as the message came out in a bare whisper.

"If we live through this, you so owe another trip to Paris." She grinned as she spoke, before finally pulling away from her father.

"I'll keep that in mind." He smirked, watching his young girl walk away with a skip in her step and newly-acquired vigour fresh in her heart. And so, they stepped out into the streets for the umpteenth time that day to face their uncertain fate head on, to wherever the road may take them to.

All was quiet on the streets of Ascendance. No longer did the peddlers market their wares on the street flamboyantly, only the black market remained at large, several of whom the duo traipsed by in dark alleys. The children's ever joyous laughter failed to linger in the air, relegated to gentle whispers from parents to stay quiet within their homes as soon as they walked by. The P.A announcement was effective, to the point of complete and utter panic, afraid and fearful for their lives. Perhaps a little too well, since Booker and Elizabeth rarely encountered guards on their journey either.

"Surreal..." she commented as her head spun about and her ears heard nothing.

"Well, at least this beats fighting through an entire army." He chimed in wittily.

"Yeah, but where the hell are they?" she shot back.

"As long as they're not at the police station, I don't really care." He retorted, confident yet wary. He knew better than anyone that it was not wise to let your guard down for even a split-second, lest they end up as someone's chew toy.

"Look! A map!" Elizabeth spied from the corner of her eye a folded up piece of paper poking out of a deluge of rubbish in a nearby rubbish bin.

"I'll go get it. Cover me, Anna." Booker barked out, sauntering over towards the trash receptacle.

"Make it quick, dad. I don't like this one bit." Elizabeth voiced her opinion, her eyes darting from one chokepoint to the next.

"Ewwww... Disgusting... Look at all this wasted food." Booker yanked the stained map with a hint of revolt etched across him. "I'm sure some crazy sod would call this nourishing." He pondered with a level of irony he could not even begin to phantom. Unfurling the paper, his finger scanned the dirty map accompanied by his eagle eye. As soon as his nail stopped at the Ascendance police station, his heart skipped a beat. Yet again, his finger moved, now to pinpoint their own location. He did not need to travel far, only five blocks from where they needed to be.

"Okay... We're about five blocks from the station, right here at Denizen street. If we keep going straight for about three blocks and turn right at the junction, we should be in spitting distance." He recanted his observations.

"Is there any landmarks nearby?" Elizabeth moved right behind Booker, her periwinkle blue irises scanning the map at her own leisure.

"Uh... yes. Galaber's Pavillion. It's a small park at the junction." He thumbed towards a plot of green surrounded by brown, white and red squares.

"That's good, right?" she responded hopefully.

"Better than good... It's perfect. Come on, daylight's starting to fade out." Booker refolded the map and pointed towards the sky, now a light shade of dark blue instead of clear, bright blue. His daughter nodded in acceptance and both Dewitts took off in a hurried and mad sprint. The road hurtled past them at breakneck speeds, dashes and streaks of colour barely elapsing at the corners of their eyes. The skyline grew darker still, rays of sunlight peeking out just barely to light the way. Strangely, none of the lamps shone bright to guide them, only darkness to envelop them whole.

Her eyes squinting to even take in her surroundings, Elizabeth found little to guide her save outlines and her father right in front of her. But as time elapsed, it was growing increasingly clear that he was as lost as her.

"Dad, we need to stop and take our bearings. It's too dark out here." Elizabeth huffed out, easily keeping up with Booker.

"Huff... Huff... Should just be a bit farther..." her father rejected the idea, opting to stay the course.

"Dad... We have no idea where we are. Running around like headless chickens won't make it any better." Elizabeth wryly replied to his stubbornness.

"No, I can... Ow!" Booker responded, only to feel his entire body smack into something hard, sending him reeling backwards onto the pavement below him. Elizabeth rushed to his aid, stopping his skull from impacting the hard stone and propping him up back to his feet.

"Dad! You alright?" she echoed. The obstacle inched closer and the shadow of a man with a slight bulge for a stomach peered back at them behind a veil of black.

"Who goes there? Don't you know it's descendance time?" the man issued a reply in a gruff overtone. A lightbulb clicked in Booker's head, ironic considering he was likely having a concussion.

"Wait, I know that voice... Slate?" he murmured, his finger shakily pointing at the figure. Now it was the man's turn to let his cranial centre shine bright.

"Well, I'll be damned!" The man seemed to reach into his backpocket for something. Producing a simple stick, he took them by surprise when all it took was a simple smack on his leg to illuminate this wondrous device and bathe them in its glow. Elizabeth took Slate in by stock. He had changed considerably since she had last seen him at her father's birthday nearly five years ago. His grey-white beard had grown to full length, Ascendance obviously placing more emphasis on scientific advancement rather cosmetic ones. An eyepatch roughly covered the big hole that used to be his right eye, sending shivers down her spine. Speaking of posterior, Slate looked as though he had let himself go, judging by the bump that was his stomach.

"It is! Booker Dewitt, my best detective!" Slate rejoiced with pride, pulling Booker up in a swift motion and tugging him closer for the granddaddy of all hugs, arms squishing his friend's frail body and knocking the wind out of him.

"Owww... Ribs..." Booker gasped out in pain, to which Slate remained ignorant. Elizabeth could not help but chuckle at the notion in front of her.

"Didn't think a spoilsport like you would come up here!" Slate pressed deeper into the hug, depriving even more oxygen from Booker by the second.

"Yeah, I'm full of surprises... Could you maybe..." he barely wheezed out. Slate finally seemed to get the hint and let the plea register in his brain. His grip slackened to a point, allowing the broken detective catch his breath.

"Oh, apologies." He responded, watching Booker settle down for a spell. Elizabeth merely nodded in reciprocation, tending to her father.

"So what brings you and... your daughter here to Ascendance?" he duly asked.

"We came here to do a job. And we thought you might be able to help us." Elizabeth answered before Booker could even begin to purse his lips. Booker was taken aback slightly by his daughter's forwardness but chose to let her actions reign supreme for the both of them at this point in time.

"Well, I'm flattered that you'd even consider me. Come in!" Slate replied jovially, sauntering off and casting a warm glow right at the structure right behind him. To Elizabeth's shock, the police station greeted them, bars on the fence, archway and all.

"Told you it was just a bit further..." Booker sniggered wittily.

"Ha, ha..." Elizabeth laughed sarcastically. Led by Slate, the duo followed the aging soldier and policeman up the stairs into his humble abode. The keys on his belt jingled and rattled as his thick fingers fumbled for them. Satisfied with his pick upon further examination, he twisted the key. The click sound vibrating in his eardrums felt menial, a sound he has heard so many times. He swung the door open and ushered both father and daughter hurriedly into the station, slamming them shut and locking them behind him in a similar fashion. To that end, they followed their only guide to wherever he may lead them.

Elizabeth tried her best to recall any of her latent memories of the once great halls since her last visit. Alas, the place was an entire variable in itself. Sheets of hard glass lathered the windows, bolted into place with steel frames built to withstand repeated assaults. Desks scattered with piles of paperwork to benefit the Ascendance work force combined with empty casings to give the sense that most of the police force had just up and gone. Further evidence of Slate slumming it up in the area revealed itself as they continued further. Piles of thrown apples lay rotted at the side. Half-empty bottles lined one of the desks, behind which the wall remained riddled with bullet holes. Her face pursed for a brief moment as she let herself be taken back to her glory days, when Booker took her out into the wilds outside the hustle and bustle of the city for a little bit of target practice. A gentle tap on her shoulder broke the immersion completely, driving her right back to the cold reality facing her with a jolt.

"You okay there, missy?" Slate's gruff tone echoed his sentiments. Elizabeth spun about.

"Yeah... Yeah. Just wondering where all the officers are." She shrugged.

"Looking for the both of you with the army, no doubt." Slate responded with a brief wink. Her mind did the work, spun the gears and made her move. Her fingers brushed against the stock of her sidearm when Slate slapped her lithe fingers away calmly.

"Put that away, missy. I'm not turning you in. I owe your father some favours and I'm not itching to get gunned down in my old age." Slate bemusingly joked at her expense. She glared at him with her periwinkle blue irises, an itchy trigger finger seeping into her good shooting arm that took all her willpower not to act upon. Slate did not wait for the outcome, rejoining Booker in the main hallway silently.

"Are you coming?" she could hear him shout from around the corner. Spinning in place, her body shuffled almost robotically so back to the group. Slate, nodding with satisfaction pressed onwards, flanked by the duo.

"So, what's the job? Must be important if they managed to hitch you a ride up here..." he barked over to Booker.

"We're looking for this girl. Problem is..." he trailed off, handing Slate the photo. One glimpse and he joined the dots in a flash.

"She just so happens to have a price on your head." Slate surmised.

"I can't go back empty handed. I've got Anna to take care of and she won't be safe if we leave right now." Booker reasoned with him.

"She's not safe here either, Dewitt." Slate thoughtfully explained his musings.

"She insisted on coming herself." He retorted.

"Hmm..." Slate murmured, lost deep in thought.

"Please, Slate. You must have something." Booker pleaded with his former boss. Slate pursed his lips, weighing the pros and cons of supporting this crazy scheme. In the end however, he relented with the idea and went on with the show.

"Well, I know a little rebellion going on right now that might be able to point you in the right direction. But we'll have to wait until we finish descendance before I can arrange a meeting."

"It'll do." Booker accepted them meagre reply. Slate led them towards a nearby vault, the circular door swung wide open on its hinges.

"Here we are." Slate extended his hand and graced them with the room's interior.

"Whoa..." Elizabeth's mouth slipped in a wide O shape. Decked across the wall was a shredded American flag, held up by simple poles. Beneath it, a simple desk sat in the center like it was his own personal office. If that was the case, it was hard to tell from the lack of files or personal memorabilia to scatter on it. Just the sheer scale of messiness incorporated in what had to be just a short amount of time was staggering.

"Since those young lads went off to help out them tin cans on their little manhunt, I've taken the liberty of moving in." Slate proudly exclaimed with little shame.

"It's been only a few days." Elizabeth voiced her disbelief.

"When something this big starts sending our dear leader into a tizzy, best thing you can do is stock up and prepare for the worst." He surmised contently, picking up an empty popcorn bag and tossing it aside with wanton care.

"What is this 'Descendance' event you keep talking about? Sounds important..." Booker diverted the topic.

"That it'd be... Every month or so, we take this entire floating crag of a city and shove it all the way down into the sea to stock up on food and supplies. There's a network of tunnels built underneath the city that connects all the buildings in the city. We'll find our little rebellion there." Slate explained dryly at his desk, tapping twice on his clock to exemplify his point.

"Are you a part of them?" Elizabeth queried further.

"Hah, if only! Much as I hate them higher powers, I'll wait and see which side wins before I make any move. My guy will take care of you, don't you worry." He met her question with a booming roar of laughter that echoed with force in the confines of the vault. Booker and Elizabeth decided that the best plan of motion was to wait out the supposed event, nestling as comfortably as they could amidst the clutter that lined the walls instead of cold, hard cash. Slate flung open his drawers, setting out a well-worn handcannon and some much-needed rounds on the table along with some canned food. He didn't even bother with the can opener, just went straight to cracking it open with his own bare hands. He gestured to the duo first and then to the can held within his big palms. Booker motioned with a simple nod while Elizabeth, preferring liquid courage motioned otherwise. As Slate tossed the can nimbly into Booker's lap, he unhooked his personal flask from his belt and did the same for Elizabeth. Her lips pursed once, then moved in closer to take a swig. The cold, yet wheat-like taste of the alcohol swivelled within her mouth, tongue and teeth, an unfamiliar feeling. She only managed to gulp it down with pained expression before she was startled by a sudden blaring of the klaxons.

"Seems like we're beginning... Better hang onto something. Ride's gonna be rough..." Slate advised, his own grubby hand snapping to a makeshift handlebar right behind him. Booker took the hint, clinging onto one of the bars near the entrance to the vault. Try as she might though, Elizabeth could not find anything secure enough to hold onto. She settled for the next best thing, Booker's right leg. The city felt like it lurched downwards, plunging questionably at breakneck speeds towards the ground below. The air pressure started to build and act upon them. With the slant in perspective, Slate, Elizabeth and Booker could no longer plant their feet on the floor, forced to dangle like marionettes on strings to their safe havens. Anything not rooted to the floor soon followed, a cascade of crap flowing down towards one end and piling up.

The shock only grew worse when they hit the water. The splash of sea water as they made impact sloshed just outside their view and smashed against the panels of glass holding this place together. Their bodies were violently slapped back and forth, causing Elizabeth to crash unladylike on the floor, bruising her ribs. Searing pain soon followed, if not the dull sound of cracked bones. Her eyes pinched together and a whimper escaped her mouth. Still, the city continued to submerge, bathing the city entirely in its rapture. For two hours, the city strained against the rising pressure outside, delving more and more phantoms under the sea till at last the trio could stand on their feet.

"Welcome to Descendance, folks..." Slate cracked wise, brushing dust off his uniform. Fish swam about, glancing only briefly at these strange new beings intruding upon their soil. Underwater plant life took to blossoming, the faint glow from their bodies lighting the area of their arrival. Predators of the sea swam about, longing for the prey within with dark eyes but mocked by its protective barriers. It was a city under the sea. A city of two worlds...

**No AN today... Too tired... Thanks for reading and keep up the support. See you soon...**


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